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BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 



VIOLET LEAVES HER BABY WITH BLACK MARTHA AND 
GOES TO SEEK EMPLOYMENT. 


































































































































BEHIND THE 
SCARLET MASK 


BY 


J. T. UPCHURCH 


Author of 

“TRAPS FOR GIRLS” 

“BLACK SLAVERY VS. WHITE SLAVERY” 
AND OTHERS 



c. 



Copyright Nineteen and Twenty Four by 
JAMES T. UPCHURCH ; 

All Rights Reserved. 


/ 

MAY 19 *24 





HO 


DEDICATION 


IN HONOR OF TRUE WOMANHOOD, AND IN BEHALF OF UNPROTECTED 
GIRLHOOD, I JOYFULLY AND REVERENTLY DEDICATE THIS VOLUME 
TO THE TWO WOMEN WHO HAVE MEANT MOST TO ME IN LIFE— 
THE TWO WOMEN WHO HAVE SHARED MY SORROWS AND 
REJOICED WITH ME IN MY SUCCESSES, WHOSE HUMBLE, 

HOLY LIVES HAVE IMPRESSED UPON ME THE SACRED¬ 
NESS OF WOMANHOOD, AND INSPIRED ME IN MY 
FIGHT AGAINST SOCIAL IMPURITIES AND HAVE 
ENCOURAGED ME IN EVERY GOOD WORK, 


MY MOTHER AND MY WIFE 






* 


S'- 





XI 


CONTENTS 

Chapter Page 

Preface. Convention of the Shades_ 

I. The Lone Highwayman_1 

II. Violet Verner_8 

III. Betrayed ___17 

IV. Violet Needs and Finds a Friend_24 

V. Are All Men Bad?_29 

VI. Seeking Employment_36 

VII. Learning the Game_50 

VIII. Learning the Game (Continued)_62 

IX. “Richard Wheeler, You Shall Pay!”_77 

X. The Giant of the Desert___95 

XI. Out of the District_104 

XII. Endeavoring to Rise_126 

XIII. In the Heart of the Rockies_135 

XIV. The Lecture_142 

XV. Wild Madge of the Street_158 

XVI. A Visit to Hope Cottage_170 

XVII. Martha Marries_177 

XVIII. The Woman in Black___184 

XIX. A Question of Honor_188 

XX. Raymond Drew, the Tenderfoot_198 

XXI. Planning the Scarlet Empire--206 

XXII. The Union Pacific Holdup_217 

XXIII. Verner Lodge_222 

XXIV. Captain Claude Clifton_226 

XXV. The Wages of Sin_229 

XXVI. The Scarlet Empire_238 

XXVII. Last Raid of the Lone Highwayman-250 

XXVIII. The Lone Highwayman’s Last Card- 258 

XXIX. The Passing of a Redeemed Soul-269 

XXX. A Grave in a Mountain-Locked Valley_284 


































LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Violet Leaves Her Baby With Black Martha and Goes to Seek 
Employment. 

The Man of Mystery—The Lone Highwayman. 

You Women Must Move Into the “District.” 

Cab Mae—This Drawing Was Made from an Actual Photograph of 
the Real Character. The End of the Primrose Path. 

“Here, Jo, Give Us a Hand.” 

Richard Wheeler had Thrown Himself at the Foot of Her Bed. 


FOREWORD 


M ANY years ago a great preacher requested me, 
because of my extensive experience in work 
in behalf of erring and outcast girls, to write a book 
in story form, founded upon facts, to expose some 
of the horrors of the Social System. I have often 
thought of the request and wanted to comply but 
have hesitated to undertake the task. 

First: I felt my inability to accomplish so impor¬ 
tant an undertaking. 

Second: I did not, at that time, believe I should 
produce a work of fiction, and to tell the plain, un¬ 
varnished truths, might expose the children and 
near relatives of outcast girls to needless disgrace 
and suffering. But, as the years have come and 
gone, until a quarter of a century has sped by, 
leaving upon my mind and heart the powerful im¬ 
print of tragedies enacted in the Desert of Death, 
commonly called a vice district, I decided to write 
the book. 

No claim is made for literary merit. That was 
not my object. This is the simple story of a life— 
a life that represents the lives of thousands 
of others. 

Violet Verner portrays one of a multitude of un¬ 
fortunates with whom the author has come in con- 


XIV 


FOREWORD 


tact in the vast “Valley of Slaughter,” America’s 
legalized scarlet mills. 

My very soul cried out against the inhuman So¬ 
cial System that has wrought so much ruin to the 
young life of America, until I felt to longer refrain 
from attempting to set forth some of the facts in 
book form would be a crime against coming gen¬ 
erations. 

The work combines facts and fancies in a sincere 
endeavor to awaken the public mind to a possible 
solution of the problem under discussion. The facts 
are feebly portrayed and the fancies are not in the 
least overdrawn. The only apology I offer is that 
I have been entirely unable to command language 
to present the facts as they have existed and do 
exist at the present time. 

The old “Vice Districts”, as they once flourished, 
have passed away, but the Social System continues 
its infernal destruction of girlhood under a new 
regime. 

Much of the manuscript has been prepared while 
the writer was on the wing in his travels through 
many states, but the closing work was accomplished 
in a cabin nestling at the mouth of a canon in the 
edge of the mighty Rocky Mountains. What will 
be the results of this effort, I know not, but I feel 
if I can prevent ONE GIRL from going astray, and 
can awaken the reader to activity in helping remove 
the “Scarlet Mask” from the lives of innocent, help- 


FOREWORD 


xv 


less babes I will be amply repaid for the effort. 
However, I hope for it a larger mission, and send 
this volume forth as a living message to work and 
work on through time until there shall be no im¬ 
moral resorts, no outcast girls, nor illegitimate 
babies in all our fair land. 

May this book go forth and work to the end that 
Pure Womanhood and Noble Manhood shall be in¬ 
fluenced to join the ranks of those who are strug¬ 
gling to overthrow the present wicked Social System 
and replace it with a System of Purity directed and 
protected by a God-fearing, home-loving, child-pre¬ 
serving citizenship. 

Arlington, Texas, 1924. J. T. UPCHURCH. 

























\ 


( 












PREFATORY 

THE CONVENTION OF SHADES. 


T HERE was a place, there was a time when the 
Shades met in General Convention for the pur¬ 
pose of devising ways and means for the accomplish¬ 
ment of a certain design. 

The Chief Shade was a being of unusual intelli¬ 
gence, and of rare executive ability. His cohorts had 
enjoyed marvellous privileges of association, and 
had been given the best educational advantages in 
the Supreme Hall of Learning. He had been ap¬ 
pointed to a high position of rare trust which his 
ambition had caused him to betray. In the betrayal 
of his trust he had demor Crated his keen insight 
into the inner citadel of the pirits of those who were 
under his direction, for wh m he determined to be¬ 
tray his trust he planned an j nsurrection so thorough 
and so insidious that he was able to enlist those who 
had been placed under his leadership by his Supreme 
Officer, and led them in war against the Supreme 
Government. 

He and his army met with an ignominious defeat, 
but his organizing genius and magnetic leadership 
enabled him to hold his entire following in the es¬ 
tablishment of his kingdom in the realm to which 
they were banished. 

This special convention was called by the Chief 


xviii 


PREFATORY 


Shade to outline plans and policies for the future 
advancement of his kingdom, and the accomplish¬ 
ment of the one supreme object for which it existed, 
namely: REVENGE against the Government from 
which they had been exiled. The only power with 
which the Chief Shade held his subjects subservient 
to his will was that of HATRED. They had a com¬ 
mon object and a single cause to hate. This was 
the first general convention he had called, and as 
he sat upon his dark throne he was confronted by 
a vast concourse of shadowy beings absorbed with 
deepest interest in the object of the convention. As 
the Chief Shade arose to his feet to address the 
assemblage there fell a deathly stillness upon the 
scene. 

In a deep voice of marvelous carrying power 
which enabled the most listant listener to hear dis¬ 
tinctly he began: “My fellow Shades and faithful 
Subjects, the insurrection war in which we were so 
overwhelmingly outnumbered, and so ruthlessly and 
brutally expelled from our native country is too 
powerfully impressed on your minds to necessitate 
my calling your attention to the unheard of treat¬ 
ment accorded us. I address you on this occasion 
with a heart full of the most terrible hatred against 
the Ruler of the Government from which we have 
been outlawed.” 

A murmur of approval, resembling the sound of 


PREFATORY 


xix 


hissing serpents, swept over the audience. Continu¬ 
ing he said: 

“My cause is your cause, we have a common 
enemy, and that enemy has given us just reason to 
hate him with a perfect hatred. He has ordered 
that not an individual of this company shall ever be 
permitted, under any circumstance, to again enter 
our native land, from which we have been so ruth¬ 
lessly expelled. The one and only recourse left to 
us is to strike our enemy through his creatures. Just 
before our expulsion from our native home, I 
chanced to learn the plans of our enemy to establish 
another country and place it in the hands of a crea¬ 
ture they called Man. That creature is to be a free 
moral agent with ability to choose between right and 
wrong, and is given power to reproduce his kind. 
He is the masterpiece of all creation, and is divided 
into two parts, male and female, these two make 
one. From these two the entire population of a 
most remarkable and wonderful land is to come. 

“In order to strike the most telling blow to our 
enemy, and the only possible chance for us to over¬ 
throw His government is by and through man. This 
work is now completed and the man and woman are 
in the Garden of Perfect Pleasure. I have called 
this convention to place before you my plans for 
the destruction of this couple. They are so created 
that they can never be absolutely destroyed, but 


XX 


PREFATORY 


can be perverted. Their utter ruin can be worked 
out only in their moral natures, through their social 
desires. 

“I wish to take this opportunity to declare myself 
Emperor of the Empire of Darkness and by author¬ 
ity :of my office, I hereby appoint a Central Com¬ 
mittee to be known as the Diabolical Trinity for the 
Perversion of Man’s Affection. All other organ¬ 
izations and all other agencies of this Empire shall 
be under the direct control of the Diabolical Trinity 
of which I will act as chairman. My nature has 
changed my name from Lucifer to Lust, and I will 
use Jealousy and Hate with me to form the Diabol¬ 
ical Trinity. I appoint Jealousy and Hate to form¬ 
ulate plans and nominate committees for my ap¬ 
proval for the direction and accomplishment of our 
purpose to destroy man. I shall leave at once to 
visit the Earth and see what I can do for the down¬ 
fall of the couple whom we must use as tools with 
which to strike our enemy a deadly blow. Before 
adjourning this convention I will announce that we 
have a long and difficult task before us which will 
require the united, concentrated resources of this 
Empire. You will please impress upon your minds 
that the Diabolical Trinity must be known on Earth 
as the Social System. You are adjourned to the call 
of the Emperor.” 


BEHIND THE SCARLET 
MASK 


CHAPTER ONE 


THE LONE HIGHWAYMAN. 


T HE stillness of the mountain pass was broken 
by the clatter of a horse’s iron shod feet beating 
on the rocks of the lonely trail leading from the fast¬ 
ness of the great, solemn mountain peaks to the more 
open road of the Overland Mail. 

Emerging from behind a rugged boulder, that 
some mighty convulsion of other ages had hurled 
into the canyon, a horseman, with striking personal¬ 
ity, rode, with easy grace, along the rough way of 
the obscure trail. 

Coming to a small cliff-bound glade where the 
grass was green and luxuriant beside a crystal 
stream, the rider slipped lightly from the saddle, 
flung the bridle reins :on the ground and, addressing 
the intelligent animal as if it were a human being, 
said: “There, Thunderbolt, help yourself to a good 
bait of grass. We have two hours to wait before our 
job confronts us.” 

The bit was slipped from the noble animal’s mouth 
and it at once began to graze, while its master 
strolled a short distance, threw himself on the grass, 
and was soon lost in a deep reverie. 


2 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


The lone traveler had the appearance of a man 
who had enjoyed some of the benefits of civilization. 
His compact, athletic form was clothed with a tailor- 
made corduroy suit, his feet were encased in Eng¬ 
lish riding boots. On his hands were close-fitting, 
untanned kid gloves, the dark brown hair was cov¬ 
ered with a soft felt hat that sat jauntily on a well 
poised head. His handsome face was partially con¬ 
cealed by a scarlet mask from behind which his eyes 
gleamed like stars. A curly brown mustache 
adorned his lip and from time to time a peculiar 
smile played about his mouth. 

Aside from the scarlet mask and a brace of re¬ 
volvers that hung from his hips, he might easily 
have been taken for an eastern business man on a 
vacation in the mountains. 

Judging from the expression of that part of his 
face that was visible his reverie must have taken 
him over experiences rough and dark, for his muscles 
contracted, then expanded. He recovered with a 
bitter laugh, glanced at his watch, gave a start, drew 
a silver whistle from his pocket and blew a sharp 
call which brought the powerful blooded bay to his 
side. 

He adjusted the bridle, sprang easily into the sad¬ 
dle with the remark: “Thunderbolt, I was thinking 
of the past and became so absorbed that the two 
hours slipped by before I knew it. We must move 
on now.” 


THE LONE HIGHWAYMAN 


6 


The stage coach, drawn by six big mules, bearing 
the overland mail and a dozen passengers lumbered 
along the rough highway, turned a sharp curve and 
was confronted by a man standing in the road. In 
either hand was a gleaming revolver leveled at the 
stage driver. From the lips of the stranger came the 
ringing command: “Halt! Hands up! All out, 
lively now!” 

The driver threw on his brakes, drew up his team, 
fastened the lines to the brake and raised his hands 
above his head. The passenger by his side reached 
for his gun, but a bullet from the revolver of the 
highwayman cut so close to his temple that he 
changed his mind and lifted his hands high above 
his head. A woman screamed as the passengers be¬ 
gan to scramble from the coach. 

Lined up by the side of the road, they were 
ordered, one by one, to step to an indicated spot and 
deposit their money and valuables on the ground, 
after which one of their number was instructed to 
tie the hands of the others behind their backs; he 
then was likewise bound by the highwayman, who 
proceeded to thoroughly search them, their bag¬ 
gage and the mail. They were then released and 
commanded to sit on the ground. 

The highwayman drew near, threw himself upon 
the ground and said pleasantly: “Sorry to detain you 
people, but the northbound coach is due shortly and, 
as I am to ask the passengers on it for a contribution, 


4 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


I do not think it best for you to leave before they 
arrive. You might meet and inform some of the 
Rangers of the Forest and cause me some little in¬ 
convenience.” 

The hold-up man proved himself a charming con¬ 
versationalist, had traveled extensively, was in¬ 
formed on current topics, a good story teller; he 
soon had the entire company laughing and talking 
as freely as if they were being entertained on the 
lawn of a friend. He related stories that were laugh¬ 
able, and told incidents of thrilling adventure that 
were enjoyed by his captives. He looked his audi¬ 
tors straight in the face while addressing them. His 
eyes at times gleamed from behind the scarlet mask 
that concealed a portion of his face. 

“Please pardon me now as I have a little business 
with the passengers of the northbound coach which 
I hear coming.” He spoke as pleasantly and as 
courteously as an usher in a city church. “Just keep 
your seats and be as comfortable as possible, for I 
hope to let you go soon.” With this he arose and 
intercepted the approaching coach that swept around 
the sharp curve. When he had again secured his 
“offering” as he termed it, the passengers of the 
two coaches were commanded to introduce them¬ 
selves, and then return to their respective coaches. 
Each passenger was returned sufficient funds to 
pay board for one day and the drivers ordered to 
move on. 


THE LONE HIGHWAYMAN 


5 


As the coaches took their departure in opposite 
directions the highwayman removed his soft hat, 
made a low bow, laughed pleasantly behind his scar¬ 
let mask, and mockingly said, “I thank you for your 
liberal contribution to a most worthy cause and trust 
we shall meet again. Farewell.” 

The passengers looked back as the coaches rum¬ 
bled round the curves taking them away from the 
scene of the robbery and they saw the lone highway¬ 
man standing, with his arms folded across his chest, 
facing the East. They waved at him, but he stood 
like a statue until they were out of sight. 

“That was the coolest and most daring individual 
I ever met,” said one of the travelers. 

“It was almost a pleasure to be robbed by such a 
man,” added another. The travelers agreed they 
would never forget the experience and the daring 
road-agent. 

The lone highwayman stood, statue like, until the 
coaches disappeared, then again drew the whistle 
from his pocket, blew a low call and when his horse 
approached placed his “collection” in a sack attached 
to the saddle on his beautiful thoroughbred. “Thun¬ 
derbolt, old boy, we have made a good collection to¬ 
day, secured valuable information for the Empire 
and must be many miles from here ere midnight 
overtakes us.” 

A day later the blooded bay was quietly grazing 



THE MAN OF MYSTERY—THE LONE HIGHWAYMAN, 



































































THE LONE HIGHWAYMAN 


7 


in a secluded dell while his master, near by, was 
looking over some letters he had taken from the 
mail pouches. One letter held his attention with ab¬ 
sorbing interest. He read it over several times, 
made a careful copy of it, wrote a few lines on the 
back, replaced it in the envelope which he resealed 
and placed carefully in an inside pocket. The other 
mail was burned and all the valuables hid in a niche 
in the rocks on the side of the mountain cliff for 
safe keeping. 

Some days later a postal employee in a distant city 
was surprised when he ran across a letter marked, 
“Opened by mistake by the Lone Highwayman.” 

The daily newspapers from coast to coast, with 
flaring headlines and striking pictures, heralded 
the news of the daring holdup of the two stage 
coaches by the Lone Highwayman. The papers an¬ 
nounced that one coach filled with passengers was 
held on the main highway for two hours waiting for 
the other to appear. It was declared to be the bold¬ 
est and most daring holdup in the history of the 
country. 

Large rewards were offered for the capture and 
conviction of the bold bandit. The Lone Highway¬ 
man, seated in a luxuriantly furnished room in the 
Congress Hotel in Chicago, read with profound 
interest the accounts in the daily papers. 


CHAPTER TWO 

VIOLET VERNER. 


U^|H, VIOLET, come here, we are going out 
back of the barn to have target practice, and 
I want you to do some special tricks with your rifle 
for a friend of mine!” 

The speaker was a boy of seventeen, a manly young 
fellow with eyes of gray that looked frankly into 
the faces of those he met. He was standing beneath 
the wide-spreading boughs of an ancient live-oak, 
looking earnestly toward a cottage almost hidden 
from view among the trees. 

His call and expectancy were rewarded by the 
appearance of a vision of loveliness. Coming toward 
him from behind a bower of roses, Violet Verner, 
with a bright, winsome smile on her beautiful face, 
drew near and looked at the boy with her deep blue 
eyes in a way that caused his heart to leap and beat 
with a delightful thrill. 

Claude Clifton and Violet Verner were acknow¬ 
ledged sweethearts. Claude never missed an oppor¬ 
tunity of being near the one who had completely won 
him at first sight, for never did he forget the bright 
October afternoon he had ridden on horseback to 
the Verner home to call on Will Verner, the girl's 
brother, whom he had known at school. 

After that day the young people met many times. 
From the first meeting Violet took it for granted 
8 


VIOLET VERNER 


9 


that Claude was for her and accepted his boyish at¬ 
tentions as a matter of fact. Two years had swiftly 
flown since that chance meeting on that bright 
October afternoon, years that were filled with great 
happiness to those two young people. Never had 
there been any kind of misunderstanding or a cross 
word between them. Neither had there been any 
love-making in actual words. But they unmistak¬ 
ably were devoted to each other. 

In response to his call Violet with a tiny silver- 
mounted rifle in her hand, asked: “Where is your 
friend? You haven’t any friend with you, you are 
just joking with me.” 

“No, I’m not,” said Claude, “he will be out back of 
the barn in a few minutes with some other young 
folks. I have been telling him how you can shoot 
and he wants to meet you. He is a fine shot, but I 
told him you could beat him.” 

Chatting pleasantly, the young couple strolled 
through the flower garden, along by the orchard, 
and through a gate to the meadow where a target 
was suspended from the limb of a great live-oak tree. 

“What is your friend’s name?” asked Violet. 

“Richard Wheeler,” replied Claude. “His father is 
Senator Wheeler, he is quite wealthy, and Richard 
is here attending the university. Here he comes 
now. Isn’t he a handsome fellow?” 

A young man rode up, threw the reins over his 


10 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


horse’s head and slipped from his saddle to the 
ground. He was tall and as straight as an Indian, 
with hair and eyes as black. 

Unobserved by the young people, a shadowy 
form peered from behind a tree with a satanic grin 
on his face—it was the Chief Shade, Lust. 

As the couple paused Claude said, “Violet, may I 
present my friend, Richard Wheeler?” 

Violet stepped forward and extending her hand 
said: “I am glad to meet any of Claude’s friends, Mr. 
Wheeler, and he tells us you are to favor us with 
some trick shooting.” 

Richard Wheeler laughed good humoredly and 
replied: “I am afraid Claude is fooling us both, for 
that is exactly what he told me you would do.” 

Richard Wheeler was twenty years of age, the 
pampered only son of a wealthy father, whose wife 
had died years before. He thought the world be¬ 
longed to him if he wanted it. His association in 
the town and at school had not been the best, and as 
a result of it he had lax notions regarding the moral 
life a young man was expected to live. 

He boasted of his “love affairs” and posed as a 
“lady’s man.” Like many other young men he 
thought it was a girl’s business to take care of her¬ 
self and if he could by any means obtain special 
privileges from a young woman he was a “lucky 
dog”—that and nothing more. Silly, foolish mothers 


VIOLET VERNER 


11 


thought he was a splendid companion for their 
daughters because of his wealth and social position. 
This added to his vanity. 

Other boys and girls soon gathered, and Claude 
opened the practice by scoring hits on a swinging 
target, four times in six shots. Richard made a 
score of eight out of ten. By request of Claude, 
Violet turned her back to the target, used a mirror 
and made a score of nine out of ten shots. She then 
turned her rifle upside down and struck a match 
that was pinned to a plank ten steps away. Claude 
placed six candles on a plank which he laid on a 
barrel fifteen paces distant, lighted the candles, 
gave Violet a six-shooter, and she extinguished five 
of the candles in six shots. He threw a tin can in 
the air, and she shot it twice with the revolver before 
it struck the ground. Richard and others did some 
fine shooting, but all acknowledged that Violet was 
the best shot. 

After Richard and the others had gone, Claude 
and Violet went for a gallop on a pair of spirited 
ponies. Violet could ride almost as well as she could 
shoot. Her father was United States Marshal, and 
took great pride in teaching his two children, Violet 
and William, to ride and shoot. They had come from 
the state of Virginia to Texas while the children 
were small. 

Claude was an excellent horseman for a youth of 
his age. He often rode his chestnut sorrel at break- 


12 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


neck speed without bridle or saddle. Standing beside 
his intelligent pony he would grasp the mane with 
one hand, slap the horse with the other, run along 
beside him and spring lightly upon his bare back as 
he went at full speed down the road. He would drop 
his hat on the ground, circle his horse and come by 
on the run, then bend low and pick up his hat as the 
horse dashed by. 

As they returned home from their afternoon gal¬ 
lop Violet insisted that Claude run in for “just a 
little bit awhile,” as she called it. She led the way 
into the parlor, threw the shutters open, sat down 
at the piano and laughingly asked: “What will you 
have?” Before an answer could be given she ran 
her fingers over the keys and softly sang: 

“Remember well and bear in mind, 

A constant friend is hard to find; 

But when you find one kind and true, 

Change not the old one for the new.” 

Then she turned her face towards him and sang: 

“Robins, bring back my Claudie to me.” 

The ’phone rang and she ran to answer it. Re¬ 
turning she said, “It was Papa and he will be kept at 
the court-house until late tonight, and as brother is 
away mother and I will be here all alone, so won’t 
you come over and stay with us awhile?” 

Claude was delighted and he hastened to accept 
the invitation. 

Claude’s people were very poor and he was so 


VIOLET VERNER 


13 


bashful and diffident that he did not understand how 
Violet could choose him and his company in prefer¬ 
ence to the well-to-do young men of the community. 
If anyone had asked Violet that question she would 
have tossed her pretty head and said: “Claude is 
so different from the other boys.” 

During the two years they had known each other 
Claude had walked to school with her, danced with 
her, attended parties in her company, taken horse¬ 
back rides with her, and they had played games to¬ 
gether, but never once had he offered any kind of 
advances. Never had he told her of his love, but 
she knew he loved her and felt that at the proper 
time he would say so. In other words she was just 
satisfied he was hers, and she was his. He never 
went with other girls, and she did not care for the 
other boys. Thus, their youthful lives glided by with 
no special thought for the morrow. 

Notwithstanding the Verners made him welcome 
in their handsomely furnished home he always felt 
backward and embarrassed. 

At the close of a very delightful evening for 
Claude, Mr. Verner returned and thanked Claude 
for “running over and staying with the folks.” He 
was a handsome man with brown eyes and dark 
brown curly hair and mustache and was so con¬ 
genial that he numbered his friends by the thou¬ 
sands. The people had confidence in Marshal Bill 
Verner. 


14 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


A few days later Claude came over to tell Violet 
he was going away for a few days. “Father has a 
business deal in another part of the State, and wants 
me to accompany him. I don’t believe we will be gone 
long,” he said. 

Thus they parted, Claude never thinking to ask if 
he might write, for he expected to be gone only a 
few days. Twelve months rolled by before he re¬ 
turned to Waco, and then he found some changes had 
taken place. On several occasions he had written 
letters to Violet, but not being satisfied with them, 
tore them up, and none was ever sent. He wrote to 
his mother, but from sheer bashfulness never men¬ 
tioned Violet in his letters. 

Violet frequently visited Mrs. Clifton, thinking 
she would get some indirect word that way, only to 
be sadly disappointed. 

Jim Patterson, a fine young man, began visiting 
the Verners through friendship, and often went 
horseback riding with Violet. He was engaged to 
another young lady and merely went with Violet to 
pass the time while his sweetheart was away and 
she knew he was coming for no other purpose. 

They were quite friendly and exchanged rings. 
Violet, carelessly, wore his ring on the engagement 
finger, and when Claude returned he was informed 
that Jim Patterson had “cut him out” and was en¬ 
gaged to Violet. 

Violet was provoked at Claude for not writing to 


VIOLET VERNER 


15 


her, and thought she would tease him for his neglect. 
He came to see her, but was so awkward and dif¬ 
fident, through his uncontrollable bashfulness, and 
the thought that she had engaged herself to Jim 
Patterson, that he left the impression on her mind 
that he no longer cared for her, an impression he 
would not have made for his life. 

One night at a party he asked her whose ring she 
was wearing, and she, to tease him, said: “Jim Pat¬ 
terson’s.” He noticed she had it on her engagement 
finger, so that settled his fate. Though he cursed 
himself a thousand times in after years for his 
stupidity and backwardness. He knew later how 
wrong he had been to let anyone come between them 
without a plain statement from her own lips that she 
no longer cared for him. 

He was called away again, this time for another 
year, to be told on his return that Violet had gone 
astray and had left the country. 

She was gone and his heart was grieved because 
he felt she had deceived him, in leading him to be¬ 
lieve she cared for him more than anyone else, and 
now she was gone. He could hardly believe it, but 
the boys told him it was undoubtedly true. With 
deep grief in his heart, intensified because he had 
been converted and viewed it from a Christian 
standpoint, he went away to engage in religious 
work, and never heard of Violet Verner directly for 
many years. 


16 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


Had he known the real facts no power could have 
stayed him from seeking and finding the discon¬ 
solate girl who so longed for him and needed his 
help. 

Not until he faced a very tragic scene, years later, 
did he learn who the traitor was that had basely 
betrayed the one girl in all the world he loved, and 
loved devotedly. 

Such are the tragedies of life. In the far away 
Philippine Islands he labored for his God, and for 
his country, all unmindful of the tragic scenes in 
the life of his boyhood sweetheart. 


CHAPTER THREE 

BETRAYED. 


“Yea, mine own familiar friend, in whom I did trust, hath lifted up his heel against 
me.”—Bible. 

“When trusting woman’s faith is given, 

And finds, when too late, that men betray; 

What charm can soothe the heart that’s riven? 

What art can now the grief allay?”—Adapted. 

F ROM time to time Richard Wheeler had called 
at the Verner home, and was always received 
with due hospitality by Mrs. Verner, who believed 
him to be a most excellent young man. 

He was polite and courteous, and always made 
himself at home with such grace and ease that one 
could scarcely repel his magnetic advances. 

Violet grew to like him and when her friends, for 
some unaccountable reason, dropped off one by one, 
she was thrown more and more in the company of 
Richard. He was so thoughtful and attentive to her. 
She did not know that this attractive young man, 
with an evil motive in his heart, had quietly cir¬ 
culated vile reports about her among the boys, who, 
in turn, had told their sisters. 

While they all winked at the part Richard played 
in the supposed downfall of Violet, they were careful 
to avoid the girl for fear of contamination. Fewer 
and fewer grew the number of her friends as the 
weeks went by and more attentive and considerate 

17 


18 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


was Richard, until he was frequently in her com¬ 
pany. Very delicately he attempted advances which 
were always repelled, then he began to make love 
with all of his magnetic impassioned being. She 
told him frankly she did not love him, but was glad 
to have him as a friend. 

One day a neighbor called during the absence of 
her mother, and told Violet some of the reports that 
were in circulation about her. While she was deeply 
pained and humiliated, she understood the cause of 
her friends deserting her, but was too proud to de¬ 
nounce the falsehoods, thinking it just the malicious 
jealousy of some scandal-monger. She became ap¬ 
preciative of the attention of Richard, who still came 
in the face of it all. “Surely, he must love me,” she 
thought, “or he w T ould not cling to me when others 
forsake me so.” 

Day after day he pressed his suit, not in a bold and 
objectionable manner, but quietly and respectfully. 
At last she told him if she could make him happy 
she would become his bride. 

“My father is away in Washington,” he said, “and 
will not be home for some weeks, I can not have a 
public wedding during his absence though I love you 
too well to postpone our marriage, so let us slip down 
to Marlin and be secretly married, and later we will 
tell our parents.” 

With much coaxing and persuading he finally se¬ 
cured her consent, and to Marlin they went. The 


BETRAYED 


19 


train left at nine in the morning and returned at 
four in the afternoon, which gave them some four 
hours in Marlin. 

Occupying a seat just behind them was a cun¬ 
ning sharp-featured Shade.—Deception. 

They were married, as Violet supposed, by a 
justice of the peace. 

By first one pretext and then another he suc¬ 
ceeded in keeping Violet willing to let their marriage 
remain a secret until she told him that they would 
have to make it known. He pleaded with her not 
to tell it, but to go on and as soon as his father re¬ 
turned he would openly acknowledge their secret 
marriage, and then he would take her to his father’s 
home. 

The weeks sped by and Violet became more and 
more depressed for she realized her dangerous 
position. When she told him she could no longer 
remain at home and conceal her condition from her 
mother, he informed her the President had called 
a special session of Congress, compelling his father 
to remain away from home until the close of that 
special session. 

If she would go away with him quietly, he said, he 
would rent a cottage, go to Washington, inform his 
father, and return to acknowledge their marriage. 
What else could she do? She had trusted him thus 
far, too far to turn back now, so she packed some 


20 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


things in her trunk and while her mother was in 
town Richard came and took it to the station. 

That night, when all were asleep, she slipped out 
and they took a midnight train. Arriving at Dallas 
the next morning they rented a small apartment. 

Richard left immediately, ostensibly to go to 
Washington, but in reality, returned to Waco so he 
would not be under suspicion of having any connec¬ 
tion with the disappearance of Violet. He engaged 
a colored woman to assist Violet with the housework 
while he was away. Upon his return, in a few days, 
he told Violet it was all right with his father, but 
that his father thought they had better remain in 
Dallas for the present to await his return from 
Washington before they came home. 

“You had better write your mother all about it, 
to keep her from worrying,” said Richard. “Tell her 
all, and ask her forgiveness.” Violet felt so relieved 
she gladly wrote the letter and gave it to Richard to 
mail, but he tore it up, and Violet waited in vain for 
an answer telling her they forgave her. 

After some days he had her write another letter, 
which he also destroyed. He then told her he guessed 
they had cast her off for good. 

She was without money, being entirely dependent 
on Richard. He made another trip to Waco and 
managed to get the report circulated that Violet was 
in a scarlet house in Houston. Returning to Violet 
he told her their marriage was a farce, that he knew 


BETRAYED 


21 


the kind of life she had been living before he began 
going with her, and that he would not “stand for 
her” any longer, but would give her a few dollars so 
she could take care of herself. With that he took 
his departure and left her in a state of bewildered 
grief. 

After he had gone and in the face of the awful 
declaration he had made, also in view of the fact 
that her two letters relating her marriage brought 
no response, she feared to write home. Besides now, 
if she wrote, she would be compelled to admit she 
was an outcast, soon to become an unmarried 
mother. Death would be athousand times preferable 
to that confession. 

After hours of agony Violet decided to try to find 
the home of her colored laundress and see if she 
could not make arrangements with this woman to 
attend her until she should be able to work. 

Sins never go singly, for sins are cowardly and 
need to go in droves. If a man steals, he will lie; if 
he lies, he will do other things that are wrong. 

Richard Wheeler knew he was deeply entangled, 
and in order to clear his own trail he continued to 
stand by the Verners and managed to divert their 
attention from himself by seeming to be greatly con¬ 
cerned. 

He was thus able to help throw the parents off 
the track as to what had become of Violet. Mrs. 
Verner was prostrated with grief, but so dreaded 


22 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


publicity that she begged her husband not to let the 
story reach the newspapers, and in this Richard con¬ 
curred. So the days dragged by and no word came 
from the darling of their home, who they thought 
had so deliberately forsaken them and betrayed their 
confidence. 

Of all griefs, probably, none goes deeper than that 
of betrayal. To be betrayed, and that by one you 
trusted, one who claimed friendship and, deeper yet, 
one who professed undying devotion. Richard 
Wheeler was a betrayer, dark, devilish, and doubly 
dangerous because of his social and financial posi¬ 
tion. He betrayed Violet and deserted her as mul¬ 
tiplied thousands of other young men have betrayed 
loved ones to believe she had betrayed them, and 
those who trusted them; but worse still, he led her 
thus closed the door of return in her face. 

This, dear reader, is being done over and over 
again in America because we harbor a Social Sys¬ 
tem that makes such crimes possible with no pro¬ 
vision made for the punishment of that class of 
criminals. Thus the mills continue to grind hun¬ 
dreds of thousands of our loveliest young girls into 
nameless creatures who are flung by the mad waves 
of the restless world far out into the dark waters of 
death and despair. Thank God there is a time and 
a place when and where base betrayers of girlhood 
will meet their judgment and receive their punish- 


BETRAYED 


23 


ment at the hands of a just God. Then, if not before, 
each vile betrayer will awaken to the awful realiza¬ 
tion that in betraying others he has worked out his 
own utter ruin, and is thus, by his own wicked deeds, 
BETRAYED. 


CHAPTER FOUR 


VIOLET NEEDS AND FINDS A FRIEND. 

“Alas! to-day I would give everything 
To see a friend's face, or hear a voice 
That had the slightest tone of comfort in it.” 

—Longfellow. 

M OTHERHOOD, under the most favorable con¬ 
ditions, is a trying ordeal, but when a young, 
inexperienced girl, betrayed, deserted, is forced to 
go unattended into the depths of agonized suffering, 
and realizes she is to become the mother of a child 
that will be fatherless, nameless, and an object of 
ridicule and abuse because of the sins of its parents, 
it becomes a horror of horrors. 

Then add to that the loneliness of the young girl 
facing such a trial without a home, without a place to 
rest her head, all, all having been sacrificed through 
the unfaithfulness of a professed lover; and let her 
in the deepest misery of her soul, contrast her pres¬ 
ent with her happy, care-free past, and then to so 
far forgive the object of her suffering as to bravely 
confront the coming crucial ordeal so as to impart to 
her offspring noble traits of character, is the su¬ 
preme test of womanhood. The young woman who 
can do that is a marvelous character deserving kind¬ 
lier treatment at the hands of humanity than is ac¬ 
corded thousands of betrayed, unfortunate girls in 
our land. That class of young women should be pro- 
24 


VIOLET NEEDS AND FINDS A FRIEND 


25 


tected, by every law of the universe, from becoming 
outcasts. 

Violet, crushed, heart-broken, and ready to die of 
grief, must not give up, she must live; and living 
must find a place to exist until her trouble is over, 
and, then she must still face the ever-deepening 
shadows and heroically struggle up the hill that con¬ 
stantly confronts the outcast mother of a child born 
out of wedlock. 

Drying the tears from her red and swollen eyes, 
Violet began to plan for her future; a future that 
presented nothing but shadows, nothing but shame; 
that groped, phantom like, on out into the blackness 
of despair. 

In those days there were no houses of refuge in 
that community with kindly shelter for erring girls. 
Inexperienced, uninformed, what could she do? To 
hide her shame, for the protection of her loved ones, 
was necessary. At last, like a ray iof light across a 
blackened cloud, a thought came, a thought of Mar¬ 
tha, the washwoman. To Martha she would go. 
With some difficulty she finally located the home of 
that negress who received her gladly, invited her 
into the neat little cottage, and asked, “What brings 
you ober heah, Miss Vi’let?” 

Martha was a full-blooded negress, the daughter 
of a former slave of a most excellent family of the 
Old South, and knew her proper relation to “de 
white folks.” She was about thirty years of age, a 


26 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


neat housekeeper, and lived all alone in her little 
cottage among the trees and flowers in a respectable 
locality of the city. Her husband had died the year 
before and she refused to “hab anything to do wid 
dem low-down niggers ob de city.” Her little home 
was paid for and she earned her living washing and 
ironing for “de white folks.” 

Violet sat down and told her frankly all about her 
trouble. Amid sobs, and tears, and agony she told 
the story. Nowhere else could she have gone to find 
a more attentive listener or sympathetic heart. 
“Lawd bless yo’ pretty soul,” said Martha, “I know 
you hab not sinned and if I had dat low down Richard 
Wheeler by de neck I’d gib him one good shakin’. 
Yes, my po’ little lamb, you can stay right here wid 
me until yo’ trouble is ober.” 

The good soul put her best room in order and went 
with Violet to get her things. Instead of being 
hostess she was servant to her white guest. 

The weeks that Violet remained under that humble 
roof were spent in tears and sobs in spite of all the 
good Martha could do to cheer her. One dark, rainy 
night Martha went for the doctor and before morn¬ 
ing another life had come into the world. During 
that dark night of sorrow and suffering the seven- 
teen-year-old girl, who had ever been accustomed to 
loving kindness and tender care at home, entered the 
valley of death with none to attend her save the 
strange physician and the faithful negro woman. 


VIOLET NEEDS AND FINDS A FRIEND 


27 


“Merciful God, why did I ever live to come to this? 
My punishment is greater than I can bear,” groaned 
the suffering girl. After hours of agony, while the 
rain and wind moaned about the cottage, a baby boy 
was placed in her arms. “Poor little thing,” she 
sighed, “God alone knows what is in store for you, 
what your life will be.” Not until she clasped the 
tiny body of her helpless babe to her heart did she 
fully realize the utter loneliness of her existence. 

As the day? dragged by she gained strength and 
began to plan for her future. One day, while all 
alone, a dreariness stole over her, and she cried out 
for Claude Clifton. “Robins, bring back my Claudie 
to me.” In her sadness and loneliness she wrote him 
a long letter, telling of her sorrow, and begged him 
to come and see her just once. She tore the letter up 
and threw it in the fire. Several were written and 
each one met the same fate in the flames. At last 
she penned a few lines asking him to come and see 
her as she wanted to talk with him on an important 
matter. She believed he would come, and that he 
would believe her story when she told it to him. The 
letter was posted and she waited for an answer. 
None ever came. Claude had become a Christian 
and had dedicated his life to a special mission which 
had taken him away from his old home. He never 
received the letter. 

She knew that sooner or later her mother must 
hear of the dark disgrace that had overtaken her 


28 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


own little Violet and feared it would cause her death, 
for her mother was suffering from heart trouble, 
and the doctor declared that a sudden shock might 
end her life. 

Poor girl, had she only known how that mother 
was weeping and longing for the return of her child 
whom she loved and would love regardless of shame, 
suffering, or death, how quickly Violet would have 
flown to her darling mother’s outstretched arms. 
But she did not know, hence suffered on in the home 
of her one friend—the negress, Martha. 


CHAPTER FIVE 

ARE ALL MEN BAD? 


H AD she searched the city over, Violet could not 
have found a more tender-hearted or sym¬ 
pathetic human being than Martha. She petted the 
girl mother and the baby boy, and when Violet had 
spells of weeping, which came quite often, she would 
do all in her power to console the lonely girl. 

The baby boy was bright and strong and won the 
black mammy’s heart and soul. He would lie in her 
lap and look with large, wondering eyes into her 
black face. Violet had a true mother heart, and 
cooed and talked to the little visitor as if he under¬ 
stood all she said. Her attention to him consumed 
much of her time and as he began to know her and 
laughed and cooed back at her she thought he was 
the dearest little dear on earth. The days slipped 
by and the postman was watched for, eagerly hop¬ 
ing for a letter from Claude. As day after day 
closed with no reply her heart sank, for he was the 
only human being in all the world to whom she felt 
she could look for assistance and he had turned a 
deaf ear to her without even a line. Her grief was 
great. When talking to the baby and watching its 
eyes sparkle and its mouth stretch in laughter, she 
would seem unconsciously to realize the sadness of 
its existence and would wail: “Poor little dear, you 
have no father, no name, no friends,” and thrusting 


29 


30 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


the little one into Martha’s lap would stagger into 
the adjoining room to weep bitterly in agony of soul. 
Thus the days passed into a month and then another 
and the poor girl began to try to plan for the future. 
She owed Martha a board bill, and there was the 
doctor’s bill, with some other items of expense. She 
had never earned a dollar in her life. 

One day while Martha was away and the baby 
asleep she was standing by the window looking out 
at the flowers, and was startled to see Richard 
Wheeler coming towards the house. Suffering had 
softened her face and made her more beautiful. 
Richard knocked at the door. She knew not what 
to do, but decided to learn the object of his visit. She 
had never loved him, but agreed to marry him 
through gratitude, thinking she was making him 
happy. He seemed to be happy and made her life 
very pleasant until he knew the baby was coming, 
then he grew rough and unkind. As she opened the 
door he stared in admiration of her beauty. Her 
voice was cold and metallic as she said: “Richard, 
why have you come, and how did you find me?” 

“Oh, Violet! I have been so miserable since treat¬ 
ing you as I did, and I have searched everywhere for 
you. By the merest chance I learned from Dr. 
Smith a girl was staying here and I came to see if 
it was you. Am so glad I found you. Dear, will 
you forgive me?” 

The words rolled from his lips in apparent sin- 


ARE ALL MEN BAD? SI 

cerity. They puzzled, staggered and bewildered 
Violet. The great thought in her mind was the fu¬ 
ture of the baby. If its father was here to right the 
wrong he had committed against his son, then she 
was ready to listen and ready to act. 

“Why, Richard, you surprise me. Be seated, and 
we will talk the matter over.” He sat down, as did 
Violet. “Violet, I am most miserable without you, 
and I have come to ask you to return to me,” he said. 
A flush of gladness swept into Violet’s face, and she 
was ready to fall at his feet if he was going to lift 
the shadow from their baby’s life. “Yes, Richard, 
I can forgive you; come, let me show you the baby.” 
She stepped over and picked up the infant and it 
awoke, as she held it up for him to see. It blinked 
its eyes, then opened them wide and looked in won¬ 
der at the stranger, then smiled at its father. Rich¬ 
ard stood transfixed. That pretty baby was his 
child, flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone, blood of his 
blood, the only one he had in the v/orld, and for a 
moment the man in him struggled for supremacy, 
but the beast conquered. 

His face hardened as he said: “Violet, I came to 
see if that brat resembled me. I do not believe it is 
my baby, and I could not think of taking another 
man’s kid to care for. I know how you have lived, 
but I think a lot of you, and if you will give the kid 
away and come and live with me, as you were, I will 
take you back and treat you good.” 


32 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


Violet staggered as if he had struck her in the 
face. She placed the baby on the bed, put her hand 
to her head to ease the pain that shot through her 
temples, then turned. Her dark blue eyes flashed 
like black diamonds, her brown hair fell like a crown 
of glory in long curls about her shoulders, and her 
face was flushed crimson with that holy, lofty ex¬ 
pression of a soul on trial. Her voice was clear, 
ringing, and cut like steel. “Richard Wheeler, you 
are the vilest being I ever met! How dare you come 
into my presence with your false accusations? Leave 
this house, and leave at once!” 

Richard was entranced by her beauty, and amazed 
at her spirit. He had never seen her so aroused. For 
a moment he stood looking into her marvelously 
beautiful face. That day he saw the girl cease to be 
and a woman take her place. Violet would never be 
a girl again. The child nature, the doll days were 
gone. He put out his arms and said: “Hush, my 
pretty tigress, come to me and let us be happy.” A 
sneer swept his handsome face. “Get off your 
stilts,” he said, “you are in my power and I am going 
to do as I please with you.” With that he started 
toward her. She stepped back, turned to a drawer, 
picked up Martha's revolver and wheeled upon him. 
Pointing the gun straight at his heart, she said: 
“Now will you go?” He backed out of the room and 
went away swearing revenge. 

Not until he was out of sight did she move, then 


ARE ALL MEN BAD? 


S3 


she stepped to the dresser, placed the revolver in the 
drawer, staggered to the bed, and wailed: “My help¬ 
less, hopeless, darling baby/' and fell in a dead swoon 
by the baby’s side. And thus Martha found her 
when she returned home from work. At first she 
thought Violet was dead. The doctor was sum¬ 
moned and with difficulty revived her. As she 
opened her eyes she moaned wearily, “Oh! why 
didn’t you let me die?” For days she was confined 
to her bed, and Martha watched over her like an 
angel in black. The doctor came repeatedly, and 
was charmed with the striking beauty and excep¬ 
tionally bright mind of the weary sufferer. When 
she was able to sit up and hold the baby in her lap, 
she would clasp it to her breast and sigh, “My sweet, 
precious darling. Mother has been so wicked, and 
has sinned so terribly, but she didn’t know it dear, 
and can’t help it now.” 

The doctor came and wanted to take her for a 
drive that she might get some fresh air and a change 
of scenery. She went with him a few times and he 
was so thoughtful and considerate of her feelings 
she thought surely she had met one real gentleman. 
The doctor was gifted as a conversationalist and so 
entertaining in his manners, he led Violet at times 
to forget her sorrow in the thrill which came to her 
heart through his attractive word pictures. From 
light sentimentality to sad melancholy the doctor 
was able to glide in a way to awaken the sympathy 


34 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


of the wounded girlish heart. “Aunt Martha” was 
glad to see the smile once more play about the lips 
of her guest as she told of some ridiculous incident 
related by the doctor. One beautiful afternoon the 
doctor came to take her for a drive and as the buggy 
rolled slowly through the city park, he placed his 
arm on the back of the seat behind Violet, turned 
his face to her and sighed. 

“What makes you sad, this beautiful day?” asked 
Violet. He sighed again and said, “My wife and I 
are very unhappy together. We have nothing in 
common. There is no congeniality between us. If 
I had only had you for my wife how happy I might 
have been. Oh, Miss Verner, I know you could have 
loved me, I see it in your eyes, and I fell desperately 
in love with you the very first time your eyes met 
mine. How I wish I was a free man so that I could 
seek to have you for my very own. Violet, my dear, 
won’t you be mine? Come stay with me in my private 
apartment until I can obtain a divorce, then we will 
be married and live ever more for each other.” 

Violet was surprised, startled, stunned, for she 
knew a man who would speak thus, when married 
to another, was a traitor, a villain and unworthy of 
trust. The horse had stopped beside a great tree. 
Violet’s eyes flashed fire. “How dare you make love 
to me when you have a wife and children at home?” 
she said. “I have enjoyed your companionship be¬ 
cause I accepted it as coming from a fatherly physi- 


ARE ALL MEN BAD? 


35 


cian, but if you think me vile enough to consider your 
impure proposition for one moment you certainly 
misjudge me.” With this she sprang from the buggy 
and walked home. 

A few days later he presented a bill for $50.00 and 
told her unless she paid it at once he would report 
her to the police as an immoral character and have 
her sent to the “District.” What could she do? 
Where could she turn for help? Black Martha, with 
a white heart, came to her rescue. From a loan shark 
she borrowed the money :on her little home and paid 
the bill over Violet’s protest. 

“Oh, Martha,” said the girl, “I can never repay 
you for what you have already done for me, and now 
you have mortgaged your little home for my bene¬ 
fit.” 

“Hush, child,” said Martha. “I’s only done my 
duty. Dis ole black woman will gib her life for 
her poor little lamb.” 

Violet impulsively threw her arms around the 
black neck and dropped her head on the honest shoul¬ 
der and sobbed. 

Friendship is measured not by class or creed, 

But rather by our actual need. 

A friend has been defined as “one who comes in 
when the. whole world goes out.” That being true, 
Martha was, indeed, Violet’s only friend. 


CHAPTER SIX 

SEEKING* EMPLOYMENT. 

S strength returned to Violet she realized she 



-^^must make an effort at self-support. What could 
she do to earn a livelihood? With a resolute heart 
and strong purpose she started forth one beautiful 
morning to seek employment. Each place she vis¬ 
ited the proprietor or manager wanted to know what 
experience she had or what particular line she could 
handle. Their questions were confusing to her in¬ 
experienced and untrained mind. If she had had ex¬ 
perience they could give her employment, but at 
present had no opening suited to her limited knowl¬ 
edge. They were sorry, but could not help her. Just 
as her heart was utterly failing she chanced to enter 
one of the largest department stores in Dallas and 
was shown into the office of the manager, who was 
so courteous and considerate her drooping spirits 
began to revive. 

“Yes,” said he, “we have an opening in the ribbon 
department which I think you can fill as experience 
is not necessary. If you desire to accept it, we can 
pay you four dollars per week.” 

From the heights of joy to the depths of disap¬ 
pointment her heart went. “But,” she stammered, 
“how am I to support myself on that amount?” 


36 


SEEKING EMPLOYMENT 


37 


He shrugged his shoulders, “Can't you live with 
your parents?” he asked. 

“My parents do not live here,” she replied. 

“Then you will have to get some gentleman friend 
to help you out. That ought to be easy, for you have 
a pretty face, and men admire beauty,” he declared. 

Violet's face burned like fire as she arose and 
staggered out of his presence, and turned her steps 
toward home. “Are all men bad?” she mused. “Is 
there no place of honest employment open for me?” 

She felt that she could not go home in that state of 
mind, so she wandered about for some time heart¬ 
sick and weary until her tired feet brought her near 
the Trinity River, where she paused as the tempter 
suggested to her that there was no earthly hope for 
her to ever be anything again. “Your life is ruined,” 
whispered the tempter. “The only door open to you 
is that of a bad life; do not all men single you out 
as that kind of a person? Why not kill yourself and 
end it all?” She paused on the bridge and looked 
down into the dirty water below. “No,” she said, 
“only cowards kill themselves,” and hastened to her 
home to clasp the baby to her sad heart. Good 
Martha spoke words of encouragement to the lonely 
girl. She retired early to toss and roll all night and 
when morning came she was burning with ■ a hot 
fever. Martha appealed to the United Charities for 
help and the investigator advised that Violet be sent 
to the City Hospital, where she could be properly 
cared for at the expense of the city. The ambulance 


38 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


came and took her away, but before going Violet 
told Martha she would take her mother’s name, 
therefore she was registered at the hospital as Miss 
Kate Austin. She kissed her baby goodbye and told 
Martha to take good care of it. The next day after 
arriving at the Hospital she chanced to see the Morn¬ 
ing News and saw where her mother had died in 
Waco. This so grieved her that her fever grew worse 
until the physician feared for her life. A worker 
from the United Charities came to see her and em¬ 
ployed a special nurse. For three weeks the girl 
lingered between life and death, then began slowly 
to recover. Scarcely had she gained sufficient 
strength to sit up in an easy chair, when she was 
reading the Dallas News and her eye caught the 
triple headline: 

Violet uttered a wild, piercing scream and fell in 
a swoon. The physician and nurses worked for 
hours to bring her back to life. Their efforts were 
finally successful and she opened her eyes with a 
moan. As consciousness was regained and a realiza¬ 
tion of the tragedy returned she wanted to see the 
paper. She read the article: 

DOUBLE TRAGEDY IN WACO 

BILL VERNER, FORMER U. S. MARSHAL, AND HIS SON, WILL, 
KILLED IN THE TUR F SALOON. 

RICHARD WHEELER, SON OF UNITED STATES SENATOR 
WHEELER, IN JAIL, CHARGED WITH THE KILLING. 

“Eye witnesses declare that young Wheeler had been drinking 
quite heavily and was in the Turf Saloon with some companions when 
U. S. Marshal Verner and his son, Will, entered the place. 

“Verner called young Wheeler aside to talk with him. Wheeler 




SEEKING EMPLOYMENT 


39 


seemed excited and said he did not want to talk to the Verners. It 
seems that Marshal Verner’s daughter had disappeared and he 
thought young Wheeler could give him some information regarding 
her whereabouts. Wheeler became insolent and told him to go to a 
hotter country than Texas. 

“Verner said: ‘The disappearance of my daughter so grieved my 
wife she finally died with a broken heart, and if you know anything 
about where she is, you have got to tell me.’ With this he started 
towards young Wheeler, who shot him through the heart, then turned 
his gun on young Verner and killed him. Neither of the slain men 
was armed. Wheeler is in jail charged with murder in the first 
degree. Senator Wheeler has beea summoned from Washington and 
will arrive the latter part of the week. All the parties are well 
known in this community and the tragedy is a great shock to the 
entire citizenship.” 

As Violet read those terrible words a strange calm 
came to her heart and a powerful desire to get well 
seized her. She began to recover rapidly and soon 
was able to sit up. Just before time for her dismissal 
from the hospital she was sitting alone in the little 
parlor musing. 

“Violet Verner,” she said, “straighten up and be 
somebody. You have done wrong, whether wilfully 
or otherwise, what matters. Tell the world so; but 
you are going to do right. Tell them that also. You 
have much to live for—think of that bright, bounc¬ 
ing boy of yours. He needs your love and care. 
Where there is a will there is a way. With that baby 
boy to inspire you, you will succeed.” 

Just at that moment Martha burst into the room 
with the baby in her arms. Violet arose with a 
surprised expression on her face, “Why, Martha, 
what brings you here this time of the day, and with 
the baby, too?” She took the baby in her arms and 
kissed it. Martha burst out weeping, “Law sakes, 


40 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


honey, dat doctor man done ’phone for me to come 
down here right away and bring dis sweet baby. I 
done come and he met me down de stairs and tol’ me 
dat I cain’t keep dis child no longer. He say de 
’fishuls don’t ’low no nigger to hab no white baby 
no how, an’ he ’lows as how dey’s goin’ to gib it to 
some white folks to take keer ob, kase you kain’t 
keep it here at dis hyear horspital. Dem ’fishuls 
sayed you wan’t no fit keeracter to raise dis here 
baby no how.” Violet rang for an attendant. “Law 
sakes, honey, who iz fit to keer fur a baby if its own 
mammy ain’t, no how? ’Fo’ de good Lawd, Miss 
Violet, I do lub you and dat baby and I’d wo’k my 
fingah nails off fur you, I shore wud.” 

The nurse entered and asked, “Did you ring for 
me, Miss Kate?” 

“Yes.” replied Violet, “please send Dr. Jackson up 
to me at once.” 

“He has just left,” said the nurse, “but the people 
he has made arrangements with to take your baby 
have sent a man to bring him to them. He is at the 
door now.” 

A policeman entered and said: “I have come for 
the baby Dr. Jackson requested me to get.” 

“But you can’t have my baby,” screamed Violet. 
“He is mine-” 

“You left it in charge of a negress and I am in¬ 
structed to take charge of it and place it as the law 
directs,” said the policeman. As he wrenched it 



SEEKING EMPLOYMENT 


41 


from her amis and left the room, Violet fell upon the 
floor weeping. 

Martha followed the officer to the Windsor Hotel 
where she learned the baby was given to a Mr. and 
Mrs. Davis who were staying there for a few days. 
With great difficulty she managed to get a few 
words with Mr. Davis and told him about Violet and 
where she lived. Mr. Davis told her they had lost 
their only baby boy a few weeks previous, so they 
wanted this little one to take his place in their home, 
and that they could and would do more for it than 
its own mother could do. He said he and Dr. Jack- 
son thought it would be far better for both the 
mother and baby for them to take it. Martha went 
away mumbling but could not help herself. 

A few days later Violet was dismissed from the 
hospital too weak to work and too discouraged to 
seek employment. She wanted to die and get away 
from it all. Faithful Martha did all in her power to 
encourage Violet, and finally agreed to let the poor 
girl help do the washings she brought to her home, 
but Violet was entirely too weak to be of much 
assistance to her colored friend. 

Several men called from time to time and re¬ 
quested to see Miss Verner, but were refused by her 
black guardian, without Violet even knowing they 
had called. One day an officer came and said he had 
been watching that house and knew they were 
characters that belonged in the “District,” and they 



YOU WOMEN MUST MOVE INTO THE “DISTRICT.” 
































































SEEKING EMPLOYMENT 


43 


would have to move there. Violet’s cup of misery 
was full. A life of immorality was as foreign to 
her gentle nature as the Arctic’s chilling wind to the 
flowers of spring. No other alternative was left 
her, she must either kill herself or go to the District 
of Death, and to the district she went. 

What is a vice district? 

Let the Dallas County Grand Jury answer as it 
did in its published report as given in the Dallas 
News under date of October First, Nineteen Hun¬ 
dred and Five. The same old District into which 
wretched, unprotected Violet was forced by the of¬ 
ficers and the unjust Social System. Here is the 
picture of the vice district in Dallas, Texas, and is 
just a sample of all the districts in the land. 

“SOUTH END—Attention is again called 
to the large per cent of crime originating in 
what is known as the ‘South End’ of the 
city. This section is a sort of headquarters 
for criminals of all kinds, white and black. 
From it come all manner of complaints and 
cases which take up considerable time of all 
grand juries. Here is headquarters for the 
cocaine joint. Here is where the country¬ 
man and stranger are inveigled, doped, 
beaten, and robbed of what they have. Here 
are to be found the negro thieves, burglars, 
crapshooters, gamblers, desperadoes, and 
murderers. Alike known to the police, jail, 


44. 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


and penitentiary are the proprietors, in¬ 
mates, and hangers-on of many of these 
low-down dives. Here is where nightly car¬ 
nivals of crime are held by cocaine fiends 
and creatures who were once men and 
women. Here is a maelstrom of destruction 
of hundreds of boys who annually drift into 
its tide of sin by reason of the constant and 
openly flaunted vice paraded before their 
eyes. Here is where physical, mental, and 
moral rottenness and filthiness come in 
touch with our boys and young men, and 
through their weaknesses, menace in many 
ways the very foundation of home and so¬ 
ciety.” 

The reader will notice that no mention is made 
of any kind of remedial suggestion for the better¬ 
ment of the girls in that district. So far as that 
report and other reports like it are concerned, the 
girls in those districts are not human beings who are 
worthy of any kind of consideration by the public. 
No wonder the girls become hardened criminals and 
that they do entice boys and young men to their 
utter ruin. Can you blame them ? 

When Violet Verner was forced by the law to 
enter the vice district of Dallas, Texas, well might 
she have abandoned all hope for the present or fu¬ 
ture had not some unseen hand guided her to the 
place of Miss Mae Dickson. At last it seemed, in the 


SEEKING EMPLOYMENT 


45 


very darkest hour of her sad, sad life, the tide turned 
and she found a position as door-keeper in the house 
of Miss Dickson. Not a very respectable or desir¬ 
able place for a young girl, to be sure, but much bet¬ 
ter than having to sell her body to those vampires of 
hell that frequent and inhabit the valley of slaughter. 
Miss Dickson still had a human heart in her breast 
and decided she would do what she could for the as¬ 
sistance of the poor girl in whom she became deeply 
interested. 

Sometimes the most unexpected happens just at 
the moment when we feel that all is lost. Martha 
and Violet had no idea of entering a public life :of 
shame even if they were forced to abide in the dis¬ 
trict. Martha said: “I kin rent a house down in dat 
district, and kin get washins to do and we kin shet 
de doah at nite and I guess nun ob dem low down 
trash will git in.” Good Martha was anxious to 
protect this delicate flower that had been thrown 
into her hands. So she went to the district to see 
what could be done. On a few occasions Martha 
had done some washing for Miss Dickson who had 
been very kind to her and paid her well. So when 
the “ ’Fishuls” informed them they had to move into 
the “vice district” Martha went at once to see Miss 
Dickson, who told her it would be out of the question 
for her to pay the exorbitant rents charged in the 
District and be able to make a living, washing. “I’ll 
tell you what I’ll do, Martha,” said Miss Dickson, “I’ll 


46 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


give you a place as assistant housekeeper and let 
Miss Lloyd act as doorkeeper until she gets strong 
enough to do other work.” Violet had told Martha 
that she did not want her real name known in that 
part of the city, and that she would not take her 
mother’s maiden name into so low a place; therefore 
she decided to be known as Miss Lucile Lloyd. 

Miss Mae Dickson, one of the most remarkable 
women in the underworld, operated two elaborate 
places of shame, one in the District and one on Elm 
Street only a block from the United States post of¬ 
fice in the most respectable and busiest portion of 
the city. Mae Dickson’s houses were different from 
the others in the district, for she was different her¬ 
self. No gaudy tinsel, flashy furnishing, nor ques¬ 
tionable pictures adorned her places; but they were 
decorated in subdued colors and furnished expen¬ 
sively, but with quiet refinement. Her girls, for she 
had about twenty, dressed more modestly than do 
many fashionable society women who throng the 
public streets. 

When Violet came with Martha, as Miss Lucile 
Lloyd, to Miss Dickson’s, she was taken into the pri¬ 
vate bedroom of that strange woman who treated 
her with such deference that the poor girl could 
hardly believe she was in a disreputable house. In 
fact Lucile, as we shall now call her, knew little of 
such places, only that she had a vague idea that they 
were dens of horror. To her surprise she saw on 


SEEKING EMPLOYMENT 


47 


the walls of Miss Dickson’s bedroom some of the 
masterpieces of Edwin Douglas, Rosa Bonheur, and 
panel copies of landscapes and mountain scenes. 
“Have this easy rocker near the fire, Miss Lucile,” 
invited Miss Dickson with a gentle smile that won 
the heart of the unfortunate girl. Continuing, she 
said: “You look tired and worn out. We will have just 
a few words, then you may go to your room and rest. 
I told Martha you could have a place as doorkeeper 
for the present, your salary will be fifteen dollars 
per week and board, to begin with.” 

Lucile almost gasped. “Fifteen dollars a week and 
board! The manager of that great department store 
offered me only four dollars a week and me board 
myself,” she said under her breath, but loud enough 
that Miss Mae heard. 

“No doubt, I can call the name of that manager,” 
spoke up Miss Mae, “for he crushes the life out of 
working girls and comes here to spend the money 
he robs them of. He is a lavish spender. You may 
see him here some night.” 

“Miss Lucile, if you are not superstitious and do 
not mind, I will let you have the room adjoining 
mine which opens into my private bathroom. It is 
a lovely room, but the girl who was here last went 
out one night and killed herself and none of the other 
girls will occupy it until it is refurnished. Most of the 
girls in this life are very superstitious,” she con¬ 
tinued. 


48 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


“No, I am not at all superstitious,” replied Lucile. 

“Then,” said Miss Dickson, “I will show you to 
your room, for you look tired, and I am sure you 
need rest.” 

“I will thank you very much,” answered Lucile. 

They arose and passed through a door set with a 
solid plate glass mirror and entered a room sun¬ 
shiny and airy, so much like Lucile’s own bedroom 
at home. The furniture was bird’s-eye maple and 
the room was finished in baby blue with the loveliest 
blue carpet and foot stools t:o match. 

“Before leaving you,” said Miss Dickson, “I wish 
to say this is a very wicked place, and you will be 
forced to see how exceedingly vile men are. You 
may rest assured that if the officers forced you to 
come here they will see to it that you remain, because 
there is some one back of it all, some designing man 
who wants to get you completely in his power. He 
has taken this method, for he knows there is abso¬ 
lutely no protection for you in this District. Men 
will offer you all kinds of insults just because you 
are here and are helpless. So far as the world is 
concerned you are disgraced beyond recovery. I 
was forced into this life, and while I am wicked I 
have never fallen so low as to help drive or hold any 
other woman in it. 

“The men who come this way are bad, all bad, but 
occasionally you will meet one who wants to be 
good and he will claim to be interested in you and 


SEEKING EMPLOYMENT 


49 


want to help you out, but ninety-nine times out of 
one hundred he is weak and desires to use you in 
some way for personal gain or gratification. So be* 
ware of them. I hate them, but am in the game and 
will have to play it to the end. I will leave you now 
so you may rest and will call you when I need you.” 
With that she withdrew and the tired, heartsore girl 
threw herself languidly on the bed and dropped into 
a troubled sleep, and thus the sweet-spirited, gentle- 
dispositioned, Violet Verner became an inmate in a 
legalized den of infamy in the Christian (?) America 
that sends missionaries to the barbarians and Bibles 
to the antipodes. 


CHAPTER SEVEN 

LEARNING THE GAME. 


W HEN Miss Mae Dickson returned to her room 
she dropped into an easy chair before the 
open grate and sat for a long while looking into the 
fire—then beyond the fire, back across the years— 
back to her own childhood days. Scenes, bright and 
happy, moved through the fire and she smiled; once 
more this woman, hardened by the associations of 
evil companionship, had forgotten the present and 
was living again the glad carefree life of pure in¬ 
nocent girlhood. How long she would have sat thus 
no one knows had not a groan come from the ad¬ 
joining room where Lucile was lying on the bed. 
Miss Dickson arose and went softly into the room 
and gently spread a comfort over the restless girl, 
then slipped back to her own room. A frown gath¬ 
ered on her smooth brow, as she sat down again 
and looked into the fire, which no longer painted 
lovely pictures of pleasant scenes, but reflected the 
gruesomeness of her present life. 

“Poor girl,” she mused, “like thousands of others 
she has been flung on the restless waves of this cruel 
sea called life. Adverse winds are rapidly driving 
her onto the breakers. She is lovely today; tomor¬ 
row she will be a broken, faded thing, unloved and 
undesired, for that is the fate of us all in this un- 


50 


LEARNING THE GAME 


SI 


natural existence—then what? She shuddered 
“When we stop long enough to consider, we know 
what the end will be, but we do not like to think 
about it, we plunge on and on and then the end 
comes. I am bad; am I too bad to do good? Why 
can’t I take this girl, protect her, prevent her from 
going any deeper in degradation and at least help 
her get strong again? I believe I can. I’ll do my 
best.” 

This woman, whom the world would not have 
wiped its feet :on, had a woman’s heart, a woman’s 
love, slumbering beneath the surface of a wasted 
life. She wanted to be good, wanted to do some¬ 
thing worth while. How many times she had sent 
thoughtless young boys away from the district, back 
to their mothers—mothers who would have scorned 
her if they had met her. She said she knew her 
work was unknown and unappreciated, but she must 
keep doing something human to prevent her own 
heart becoming entirely bad. 

Like many other women of the underworld, Mae 
Dickson had a life story, a life story that was a 
closed chapter, a sealed book to those around her. 
Like others, she hoped some day to leave the ways 
of sin, go to some distant land where she was un¬ 
known and commence all over again. “As soon as 
I get money enough to take care of myself, I will do 
it,” she said. While making that statement there 
was a terrible dread gnawing at her heart for she 


62 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


knew the cords were drawing tighter and tighter 
about her soul. 

A good resolution is helpful to anyone, however 
awkward he or she may be in performing that reso¬ 
lution. Mae Dickson’s heart was hungry for love, 
for companionship. The kind that was real, the 
kind that satisfied. Everything about her was so 
artificial, so unreal. She arose and went in search 
of Martha, whom she found and requested to fix 
supper for two and bring it to her room. “Prepare 
something appetizing, something to give strength 
to Miss Lucile,” she instructed, “I want to help her 
get strong.” With this she returned'to her room. 

At five o’clock she slipped into Lucile’s room and 
found her sleeping soundly. She stood for several 
minutes looking at the sleeping girl, studying her 
face. Years of conflict with opposing forces had 
taught her to read character. She knew that Lucile 
was no ordinary person. In her face were stamped 
the lines of noble womanhood, beneath which Mae 
saw slumbering qualities that, once awakened, 
would make her a powerful force in whatever sphere 
she chanced to move. “How sad, how pitiful,” she 
thought, “that lovely young girls, capable of untold 
achievements, should be sacrificed on the altars of 
passion by beastly men.” 

Placing her hand tenderly on the forehead of the 
sleeping girl, she said softly, “Lucile, better wake 
up now or you will not sleep soundly tonight.” 


LEARNING THE GAME 


53 


Lucile was dreaming about Claude; they were once 
more skimming the prairies on their spirited ponies. 
She opened her eyes, bewildered for a moment, then 
remembered where she was and sat up startled. 

“You were sleeping soundly”—the words were 
spoken in tenderness, and Mae smiled: “I thought 
you would like a bite to eat and I have had Martha 
serve supper for us. Come in the bath room, bathe 
your face and we will have supper in my room, just 
we two.” 

Lucile was so grateful, she smiled sweetly, fol¬ 
lowed Mae to the bathroom, bathed her face and 
then followed on into Mae’s room where Martha was 
waiting with a tempting supper steaming hot from 
the stove. 

After the supper dishes were removed and Martha 
had gone, Mae and Lucile sat by the fire in silence 
for a while. Each was absorbed in her own thoughts. 
Mae looked up and said: “Miss Lucile, while you 
were resting I was alone here by the fire thinking, 
and I decided that I need you at present to act as 
my secretary and you can do this work for me until 
you regain your strength. Your compensation will 
be the same.” 

“How grateful I am to you for your kindness, but 
fear I shall not be able to fill that position as I am 
entirely inexperienced in that work,” replied Lucile. 

“Oh, yes you can. The work is easy, I have my 
books right here in my room and all you have to 


54 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


do is to enter the items in the columns as per their 
headings.” 

“Why can’t I fill both positions?” asked Lucile. 
“Miss Mae, I realize the position of door-keeper ex¬ 
poses me to the public, but my life has been ruined, 
all my loved ones are dead and there is nothing for 
me to shield except my father’s name and to shield 
that I am using another name. I have got to make 
my way and I see no reason why I should shrink 
from facing the situation.” 

“Very well, we’ll see about it, but for the present 
you do my office work and as you get stronger we 
will arrange other work. Now tonight I want you 
to keep quiet and rest, for that is what you need 
more than anything else. Before I bought this house 
the room you occupy was used to ‘break girls into 
this kind of life’ and is padded so that no sound from 
the room will go forth and no sound from without, 
when it is closed, will enter. I do not need that kind 
of room in my house, so I furnished it as you see; 
however the padding makes it a good place to retire 
and be quiet. You will find plenty of good maga¬ 
zines in the library there, and I want you to read 
and rest until your strength returns.” 

“With that kind of treatment it ought to return 
speedily,” smiled Lucile. 

Two months later as Lucile was sitting by the fire 
in Miss Dickson’s room the latter looked up from 
her needle work and said: “Lucile, you are doing 


LEARNING THE GAME 


55 


your work so well as my secretary and have proven 
such a success as doorkeeper you may draw thirty 
dollars per week instead of fifteen. You will need 
to replenish your wardrobe as winter is now on us.” 

These two persons, so strangely thrown together, 
had developed a warm friendship that was growing 
with the passing days. Mae found in Lucile just the 
outlet for the love she longed to bestow on some 
object, and Lucile obtained from Mae the protection 
and help she needed. 

There was no use in even suggesting to the patrons 
of the Star Mansion that the new doorkeeper, Miss 
Lucile Lloyd, was not a sporting woman, for her very 
presence there marked her as such. They knew she 
was not a hardened woman but she was there and 
would have to take the consequences. She was still 
frail in body, which gave her some consideration by 
a few of the more particular patrons. Miss Dickson 
instructed her, and her own quick wit enabled her 
to manage the difficult situations that arose. The 
visitors soon learned she was there as doorkeeper, 
and nothing more. Several men talked to her on the 
quiet and wanted her to go away with them, each 
of whom was fascinated with her beauty. The girl 
received revelations of man’s vileness of which she 
had never dreamed. Men came there who had lovely 
wives and sweet children, men who stood high in the 
religious, commercial and political world. They were 
safe in coming there, they said, for none of their 


66 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


acquaintances would be caught there except on the 
same business they came and would not dare to 
“blow.” 

“The District,” said one prominent business man 
who patronized the Star Mansion, “is the only solu¬ 
tion to the social problem. Since the world began 
we have had immoral women and so long as it stands 
we will have them; they have to exist, and inasmuch 
as they do have to exist it is so much better to have 
them in a district by themselves where they can con¬ 
duct their business unmolested by society and where 
they can have police protection. The segregated 
plan also provides better protection to the public 
from infectious diseases.” 

“Yes, and it gives you gray-bearded, bald-headed 
old men a safer method to visit the sporting houses 
if they are located in a district where you are free 
from being detected by the respectable people. An¬ 
other thing, you know there is absolutely no danger 
of any minister ever catching you here for none of 
that class ever come this way unless it is some prof¬ 
ligate and he would not dare acknowledge he had 
been to a place of this kind,” answered Miss Dickson. 
Continuing, she said: “As to our getting protection 
from the police, yes, we get it all right—if we are 
able to pay for it—for they are the worst robbers 
we have to contend with. 

“I have been in this life eight years and never 
have I seen a self-respecting policeman on this beat 


LEARNING THE GAME 


67 


during those eight years. They are thieves and 
robbers, and the meanest kind, for they rob us under 
the cloak of the law. You declare that immoral 
women have always existed and will always exist; 
pray tell me why they exist and how they exist. 
Is it not for the accommodation of such men as you, 
who have little regard for your marriage vows? You 
men think it is all right for you to go on a lark, but 
suppose you should find your wife here some night 
with another man, what would you think about the 
District then ? You may not like it, but I want to tell 
you, your wife has just as much right to come to this 
district in company with some other man as you 
have to come and visit the girls in these houses. 

“There is another thing I want to tell you, while 
it is on my mind, and that is that not all of the girls 
and women who are in this life come here of their 
own will and accord. A very large per cent of them 
are forced into this life in first one way and another. 
When a girl is virtuous she has to run the gauntlet 
and is compelled to protect herself from any and all 
men and more than that she has to protect the men 
she keeps company with to keep them from being 
too fresh with her. If she does fall in love with a 
man, blinded by love, believes his profession of un¬ 
dying devotion to the extent that she permits him 
certain privileges, she may rest assured that he 
would see her dead and in perdition before he w T ould 


58 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


marry her. Don’t I know, haven’t I been over the 
road?’’ 

Miss Dickson had been drinking that day to drown 
certain thoughts of the past that had been buzzing 
about her head like a swarm of bees, and she was 
reckless and did not care a rap if she was talking to 
one of the wealthiest patrons of her place. Her 
shots went home, however, and he changed the sub¬ 
ject. 

Violet had become Lucile Lloyd and, as Lucile 
Lloyd, was winning her way into the heart of Miss 
Dickson. One wonders why Violet did not fall into 
the hands of a good Samaritan, while she was un¬ 
tarnished, that she might have been preserved to 
become the honored wife of some noble man. For, 
like thousands of girls in the underworld, she was 
created for motherhood and would have been de¬ 
voted to the highest principles of an ideal American 
home. One thinks, “what a pity that such girls 
should be sacrificed on the altars of an insane social 
system which transforms them from sweet, trusting 
creatures into hunted, hated hags.” 

One wonders what strange unseen power it was 
that hounded the steps of this girl, and what unseen 
force or power that guided her, when forced into 
the District, into the companionship of so remark¬ 
able a person as Miss Dickson. Why did not the 
evil forces pursue her rapidly into a suicide’s grave? 
Why was she spared at that critical moment from 


LEARNING THE GAME 


59 


falling into the hands of brutal men who would glad¬ 
ly have completed her utter ruin. Had some good 
angel at last succeeded in interposing in her behalf, 
or were the powers of darkness letting up in order 
to use her to greater advantage in another di¬ 
rection? 

Such questions will arise in one’s mind and some 
of them will remain unanswered until we cross the 
Styx. 

Lucile, thin and pale from sickness and suffering, 
was still beautiful. The deep pain in her heart pro¬ 
duced a tenderness in her voice and in the expression 
of her dark blue eyes that drew people to her. It 
was whispered about in the clubs and saloons that 
Mae Dickson had an unusual and remarkable door¬ 
keeper at her place. Men went there to see her and 
she became the attraction of the Mansion. They 
jested about her, they gambled about her, they drank 
to her luck. One dashing Apollo of the ball room, at 
a private luncheon, wagered five hundred dollars he 
would bring her down. 

For a pretty girl to be in a sporting house and hold 
herself aloof from men was an unheard of thing, 
and should not be, so decided the frequenters of the 
District. Of course they thought she was working 
them and became jealous of each other and watched 
each other. Duke Darling, with a knowing wink, 
said: “What are you giving me, no such thing ever 


60 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


occurred and no such thing will ever occur. You can’t 
ram that down my throat; watch me, I’ll show you.” 

This man was noted for his “love affairs,” and at 
once aroused the jealousy and hatred of the “boys.” 
The other girls in the Mansion became jealous of 
Lucile and declared they would bring her “off her 
perch.” Miss Dickson had given employment to 
Martha as assistant housekeeper. Martha had ac¬ 
cepted it in order that she might remain near her 
”po’ li’l lamb.” 

What a tragedy to crowd into one young life! Be¬ 
fore reaching her twentieth birthday she was a 
mother weeping for her offspring, and would not be 
comforted because it was lost to her, and the father 
of that offspring was the murderer of her father and 
brother, and had caused her own dear mother to die 
of a broken heart. Now she was driven by the of¬ 
ficers, who should have protected her, into the 
“Desert of Death,” the city’s living hell, where she 
was the legitimate game to be hunted by the social 
hyenas of the Jungle. Only two friends in all the 
wide world to offer her any kind of protection—a 
negro woman and the Scarlet Madam of a Scarlet 
House—could she possibly survive? 

The human heart and life are unconsciously but 
powerfully influenced by their environment and 
softened or hardened when placed in conditions over 
which they have no control. Day by day, the harden¬ 
ing influences of the District worked on the life of 


LEARNING THE GAME 


61 


Lucile Lloyd until at times she seemed on the verge 
of breaking down and throwing herself into the mad, 
whirling waters of dissipation, but some vague pur¬ 
pose was forming in her soul and some unseen force 
held her in check. The only two persons in whose 
presence she felt safe were Martha and Miss Dick¬ 
son. That sense of danger was her greatest protec¬ 
tion. Men offered to take her out, but she had no¬ 
where to go. Who would receive her? Where could 
she turn to find honorable employment? Had she 
not sought it before this extra stain was on her life? 
—and had failed. Then, because of warnings given 
by Miss Dickson, she was afraid to trust any of the 
men, regardless of their fatherly appearance, for 
their presence in such a place marked them as un¬ 
faithful and unworthy of trust. Thus the days and 
nights stole by. 


CHAPTER EIGHT 

LEARNING THE GAME—Continued. 

The day is ending, 

The night is descending; 

The marsh is frozen, 

The river is dead. 

—Longfellow. 

C OLD, deathly blasts of wind whipped the flurry¬ 
ing snowflakes about the eaves of the houses 
and dashed them into the faces of any who dared 
brave the elements on one of the most disagreeable 
nights winter had introduced to the citizens of Dal¬ 
las. Few there were who walked the main thorough¬ 
fares of commerce, and fewer still who lunged, or 
floundered along the deserted and dimly illumined 
streets leading into the “District.” One man, driven 
by dire necessity, pushed his way along Market 
Street and cursed the fate that sent him forth on a 
night so disagreeable. He paused by a corner light, 
drew out his watch and noted it was ten-thirty, 
ground his teeth in rage and muttered, “At midnight 
I must have that money or go to jail in disgrace. 
Curse my luck! If Myrtle can’t help me out I am 
done for.” 

He paused in front of the Star Mansion, sprang 
up the broad steps, pressed the electric button and 
waited. Soon the door opened, then the black face 
of Martha peered out. With an oath the man 


62 


LEARNING THE GAME—(Continued) 63 

wanted to know what was the matter. “What do you 
keep a fellow standing here all night in the cold for? 
Open the door—I want to see Myrtle.” 

“Yes, sir, come in,” said Martha, opening the door. 
“Jes, come dis way to de back pariah, dey’s no steam 
in de front pariah. Hab a seat an’ I’ll call Miss 
Myrtle.” 

“Tell her to hurry, for I haven’t long to stay,” 
ordered the man. 

“Yes, sir, I will,” and away Martha went. 

The man laid aside his heavy coat, threw his hat 
on the sofa and paced the floor. He was the honored 
and trusted cashier of one of the leading banks in 
Dallas and had walked because he did not want any¬ 
one to know where he was going. He had been 
gambling of late and was forced to have five hundred 
dollars before midnight or face exposure. The girl, 
Myrtle, he had been keeping in a private apartment 
up town, but some weeks before had sent her to the 
Mansion into a public life, and he had now come to 
call on her for assistance. 

Myrtle came to the door, “Why, Jack, what brings 
you out a night like this? I’m certainly glad to see 
you, for I was so lonesome.” 

He took her by the hand, kissed her upturned face, 
led her to a seat and said: “I want to talk with you, 
Myrtle.” 


64 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


Seated before the open grate in which a cheerful 
fire blazed, in her room, Miss Dickson and Lucile 
were in earnest conversation. “These are off nights; 
I usually close up, for if I keep open on a night like 
this no one comes but possibly a crowd of worthless 
boys, who would drift in to muss up the house with 
their dirty feet and cigarette smoke. 

“View it from any angle you may, this is a terrible 
life for any woman to live,” she continued. “It is a 
game, a losing game to the woman, in which the man 
always gets the best of it, if there be any best. When 
a girl starts in this life, I mean a girl that has no 
moral ideal, she sees only the glitter of fine clothes, 
bright lights, gay associates, and a good time in gen¬ 
eral; but the pace quickly kills, and she is flung out 
of the way, while another butterfly takes her place. 

“The girl with beauty attracts some man who 
spends money on her for a time. He soon tires of her 
and casts her out while he turns to a more attractive 
face. Set adrift she goes the course of least resist¬ 
ance and comes to the District. For a while her 
freshness and beauty draw men to her. Her beauty 
fades in spite of all the artificial help she gives it. 
Then she takes the next step, enters a crib from 
which later she becomes a street walker, dodging 
the officers and soliciting men on the streets and 
by-ways. Society has no more deadly foe than a girl 
in that stage of her downward course, for she is 
diseased in mind and body, and the physical disease 


LEARNING THE GAME—(Continued) 


65 


is scattered broadcast among young and ignorant 
boys, who in turn transmit it to their future wives 
and children. Thus society reaps what she is sowing 
through her Scarlet System. There is the betrayed 
girl, who, deceived by her lover and cast out, soon 
reaches the grave or the District. She either fights 
against her fate or recklessly flings herself on the 
waves of desperate dissipation. She swears, smokes, 
drinks, gambles, steals, and does anything that pre¬ 
sents itself to her poisoned mind. On the other hand, 
if she makes a desperate effort to stem the tide, 
save money and escape to some distant place to begin 
life over she finds herself gripped in the coils of this 
deadly serpent; she grows weaker and weaker until 
she, too, disappears in the whirling waters of the 
gulf of despair, and thus the Social System continues 
grinding lovely girlhood into the spawn of hell. 

“Never will conditions change without a revolu¬ 
tion. It took a revolution to free the black slaves of 
the South, and it will take a revolution to destroy the 
present Social System. Then another thing I have 
noticed. All true and abiding reforms begin with 
the oppressed. Some one must arise from the inside, 
the under side, the nether side, the dark side, the 
damned side, to espouse the cause of the ‘ outcast 
before any far-reaching and permanent reform will 
be worked out in the Social System. Take the 
temperance movement. Outsiders tried, through 
their chalk and water temperance societies, to stem 


66 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


the tide of intemperance, but it laughed and grew 
bolder. When such men as John B. Gough, John G. 
Wooley, Luther Benson, Sam Jones, Sam Small, and 
others who came up from the under side and hurled 
their strength of actual experience into the fight it 
began to tell. Those are the men who did the work. 

“Some time, somewhere, God—yes I believe in God, 
though now He is hidden from me by the dark veil 
that hangs about my life, He is merciful as 
well as just—some time He will find a woman who 
will dare death in any form and thus daring will 
strike at the heart of things. The public will be 
aroused, wrongs will be righted, the Nation purged, 
the Social System purified, and a new order estab¬ 
lished. In that day a generation will be born to look 
back upon our present system as a dark blot on 
the escutcheon of civilization. There will be no 
places :of public vice where women’s souls are bar¬ 
tered for a penny. There will be no outcast girls 
nor nameless waifs to be housed in foundling asy¬ 
lums. No, that will not be the millennium; it will 
just be a time when the public awakens to the true 
worth of a girl, a boy-” 

She was interrupted by a wild scream that rang 
through the house. Another and another came in 
quick succession. Springing to her feet, she grabbed 
a revolver and rushed from the room to the back 
parlor from whence the screams proceeded. She 


LEARNING THE GAME—(Continued) 67 

flung the door open and saw Myrtle lying on the 
floor with the blood gushing from her face and 
nose. The bank cashier stood over her with bloody 
hands and in threatening fierceness cursed her for 
failing to furnish him money she was unable to 
produce. 

Raising her revolver to a level with his heart, Miss 
Dickson, with flaming eyes, demanded: “What does 
this mean? You get out of this house at once, sir. 
No conduct like this is permitted in the Mansion.” 

The man turned to her a sullen, inflamed face, 
picked up his hat and coat, and strode from the 
building with bitter oaths on his lips. As the door 
closed behind him Miss Dickson brushed past Lucile, 
who was standing near, and stepped to the ’phone 
to call on the police department to arrest the man. 
The girl Myrtle crawled to her and sobbed with 
bleeding mouth, “Please don’t have him arrested, 
he’s my honey love.” 

Miss Dickson replaced the receiver and said: 
“You silly simpleton, you ought to be beaten—let a 
man treat you that way and not want him arrested.” 

With that she summoned Martha and they assisted 
Myrtle to her room. Soon afterward, Myrtle was 
dismissed from the Mansion to prevent a repetition 
of the night’s occurrence, but Miss Dickson kept the 
costly blood-smeared dress as an emblem of a cul¬ 
tured man’s beastly brutality. The blood spattered 


68 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


carpet in the back parlor had to be replaced with a 
new one. 

Lucile returned with Miss Dickson to her room, 
and once more they seated themselves before the 
fire as Miss Dickson said: “That is only one of the 
many atrocities heaped upon defenseless women 
behind these gilded walls of death. They cry out 
for retribution.” 

“That was terrible, I can hardly get over it,” said 
Lucile: “Why in the world wouldn't she let you have 
that beast arrested?” 

“Just another evidence of frail woman's mis¬ 
placed, misdirected love,” replied Miss Dickson. 
“Then to think of the thousands of poor girls receiv¬ 
ing far worse treatment in the vice districts all over 
America while professed Christians read their 
prayer-books, and talk about the world getting 
better. The world can never get better while such 
conditions exist.” She yawned and said: “We had 
better retire. I hope you will rest well. Don't let 
that incident worry you, my dear.” 

Spring time, glad spring time, mating time, had 
come, and all earth was robed in bright beauty. The 
grass sprang green, the flowers, kissed by sunbeams, 
blushed and gave forth their sweet odor. The birds 
flitted in the boughs of the trees and warbled their 
melodious praise on the rose-scented air. 

Seated at her window looking at the lovely flowers, 


LEARNING THE GAME—(Continued) 


69 


smiling at her from their beds, like fairies from 
another world, Lucile drank in their wondrous 
beauty. So pure, so innocent, did they peep up at 
her on this silent Sabbath morning. All was still in 
the Mansion, not a stir, not a sound, when she arose, 
slipped on a light kimona and threw herself in an 
easy chair by the window. A book was in her hand, 
a volume by George Eliot, a woman who had once 
lost the way, but had struggled back, at least, to 
public recognition. She read: 

It was in the prime 
Of the sweet spring-time, 

In the linnet’s throat, 

Trembled the love-note, 

And the love stirred air 
Thrilled the blossoms there. 

Little shadows danced, 

Each a tiny elf, 

Happy in large light, 

And the thinnest self, 
sir 

A church bell somewhere in the distance pealed 
forth, she dropped the book in her lap, raised her 
eyes and looked at the sweet flowers in their tender 
purity, then her eyes went beyond the flowers to 
another rose covered bower where a girl stood in 
maidenly purity holding the hand of a boy who had 
come to tell her goodbye. “I won’t be gone long,” 
he said. 

“I will be waiting for you when you return,” she 
had smilingly replied. 


70 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


They were children then free from the convention¬ 
alities of that great big world of false pretensions. 
“When he returned, what wrought the change? Why 
was he not the same as when he went away?” she 
asked herself. 

Her eyes moistened and her face softened as a 
robin flitted in the tree near her window. She softly 
sang: “Robin, bring back my Claudie to me.” The 
robin turned his head as if listening to the message, 
then spread his wings and flew away. Lucile smiled 
through her tears, and mused as her face hardened, 
“If you could bring him back, Robin, he wouldn’t 
have me now.” Again the tears started from her 
deep blue eyes as the words of Robert Stevenson 
came to her mind, 

It is the season now to go 
About the country high and low 
Among the lilacs hand in hand, 

And two by two in fairyland. 

“We used to be in fairyland, but those days are 
forever gone.” She tossed her head with impatience, 
causing the long brown curls to fall in unrestrained 
confusion over her shapely shoulders and about her 
lovely face. “Why, for pity’s sake, should I forever 
be thinking about Claude Clifton? Didn’t he turn 
away from me and fail to come to me when I needed 
him so much?” Her face grew hard and her eyes 
flashed ominously as she continued, “What am I 
today? Why should I care. What is there in this life 


LEARNING THE GAME—(Continued) 71 

for me? What’s the use? I had just as well ‘go the 
gaits,’ as the girls say.” Her form was rigid. She 
thought of her baby. Again her face softened and 
her eyes moistened. “I wonder where he is? Will 
I ever see him again? If I should find him he 
wouldn’t want to :own me as his mother. It seems 
to me that if I could have kept him and had half a 
chance I could, and would, have made good in life. 
She longed to see her child. In a sudden rebellious 
gust she exclaimed: “No, the world, the big strong 
world, has willed it otherwise and I am helpless! 

“There is only one course open to me, and I am 
in the trap and I will go the limit.” 

Her face was hard and her voice metallic as she 
spoke those words aloud. 

“That big banker has been trying to get me to 
go with him, guess I had just as well do it and get 
all out of life I can. He will buy me plenty of fine 
clothes, take me around to places, pet me awhile 
and let me go. I will save the money he gives me 
and do as Mae says, ‘go away somewhere and begin 
all over again,’ and maybe some day I can find my 
baby. It’s settled. I’m going to do it.” With this 
she proceeded to dress for dinner. While she dressed 
she mused: “Old bald head, you needn’t think I’m 
going to let you take me for a simpleton—if I sell 
you my soul and body, you are going to pay for it.” 

An hour later, seated by Miss Dickson at the 
dinner table, a feeling of melancholy had stolen over 


72 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


her. The shrewd woman read her mind, and, on 
leaving the table said: “Lucile, I want to see you in 
my room for a few minutes.” 

Seated by the window in Miss Dickson’s room 
Lucile looked up and asked: “What do you want 
with me?” 

“I wanted to talk with you a few minutes,” replied 
Miss Dickson. 

“Lucile, you will occasionally be sorely tempted to 
throw yourself entirely away, because of the past 
and because the present offers so little that is worth 
while; but, my dear, I believe there is a work for 
you to do in the world, I don’t know just how it is 
going to come about, but one thing is certain, if 
you break down and give way to despondency 
you will soon go to the bottom. When one once gives 
way and starts down, there is nothing to hold to. 
I have avoided the use of tobacco or drugs and sel¬ 
dom ever drink—only when in deepest trouble. I 
know it is foolish, for the troubles all float on top 
and the only thing I drown is my self-respect and 
confidence to ever be anything. Get your hat and 
let’s go for a walk.” 

Miss Dickson led the way along one or two of the 
most prominent streets in the District, where the 
‘big houses” were located. “See these houses,” she 
said, “they are the parlor houses, conducted by some 
of the meanest and most wicked women in the world. 
They are operated for the money, and the money 


LEARNING THE GAME—(Continued) 73 

alone. It is graft from start to finish and the girls 
have to pay the graft. 

“This place operated by Kitty Wilson would rent 
for seventy-five dollars per month in any other part 
of the city, but she has to pay five hundred for it and 
all other expenses are in proportion, and a few girls 
have to raise the money by selling their bodies. You 
know they can not last long; the average life is 
about five years.” 

Passing a row of small cottages she explained: 
“These are known as cribs and are occupied by girls 
who have become too commonplace for the parlor 
houses. Most of these girls are the pitiful slaves of 
brutal men who are known as “rounders” and “mac- 
quereaux”. They keep the girls drained of every 
dollar they can spare and still exist. The next down¬ 
ward step is the street-walker and that leads to what 
I am now going to show you.” Thus speaking she 
led the way past the “dope drug store,” where co¬ 
caine and morphine were sold to the poor unfortu¬ 
nates who had become slaves to the habit, on around 
in the rear of a negro dive where was an old over¬ 
turned cab in which dwelt a human being that was 
once a woman. Miss Dickson stepped up and called: 
“Mae, are you at home?” 

“Who is it?” asked a voice from within the cab. 

“Miss Dickson, from the Star Mansion. I want 
to talk with you a minute.” 

“All right,” came the voice, as an old tow sack was 


































































































LEARNING THE GAME—(Continued) 75 

pulled from the window and a woman’s face poked 
through the opening. The poor thing began to make 
apologies about being unpresentable. 

“Never mind! I know you have not had time to 
fix up this early in the day, and we will excuse your 
appearance,” answered Miss Dickson. “Here is a 
half dollar, I want you to sing for me.” 

The pitiful creature pulled herself from the cab, 
pinned her rags of garments together, grinned and 
said as she took the money, “I thank you for the 
coin, but I can’t sing much; my voice is bad. I will 
do my best. I was just thinking over the words of 
a song I wrote myself one day when things went all 
wrong with me, I will try to sing it to you.” 

In a voice that had once been rich and full, now 
broken and harsh, but which still retained a certain 
amount of pathos, she sang: 

One of the sweet old chapters, 

After a day like this— 

The day brings tears and troubles, 

The evening brings no kiss. 

No rest in the arms I long for, 

No rest, no refuge nor hope, 

But weary and heavy laden, 

I come unto Thy Book. 

One of the sweet old chapters, 

After a day like this— 

The Lord has care of the birds and lilies 
Out in the meadow dew; 

The evening lies softly about them, 

Their faith is simply to be; 

But weary and heart-broken, 

My God, let me trust in Thee. 


76 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


As the plaintive notes of the song died away Lucile 
was weeping and said, “Let’s go.” 

Miss Dickson thanked the singer for the song and 
they returned to the Mansion. On their way she told 
Lucile that Cab Mae was once a gifted, educated girl 
who later became the madame of the largest parlor 
house in Dallas. “You see her now—she went all the 
gaits,” said the woman simply. Reaching the Man¬ 
sion Lucile went directly to her own room, fell across 
the bed and sobbed herself to sleep. 


CHAPTER NINE 


RICHARD WHEELER, YOU SHALL PAY. 


“Vengeance to God alone belongs; 

But, when I think of all my wrongs, 
My blood is liquid flame.” * * * 


S EVERAL days after the visit to the sad, pitiful, 
unfortunate creature living in the old over¬ 
turned cab, Lucile was out walking with Miss Dick¬ 
son, and they passed a little house near the sidewalk 
from which came a groan from some one in intense 
agony. Miss Dickson knocked on the door and a 
feeble voice said: “Come in.” 

She shoved the door open and they entered, but 
were forced back by the foul odor filling the dirty, 
filthy place. A moment she waited, then entered 
the room. On a bed of rags on the floor lay a 
woman, or rather what was once a woman. As the 
visitors entered she lifted her agonized voice to 
plead for just a little water, “I am dying,” she said, 
“and am burning up with thirst.” The poor thing 
raised a thin, dirty hand and pressed it to her 
parched lips. 

“Lucile, you run back and get a pitcher of water, 
and I will stay with her until you return,” ordered 
Miss Dickson. Lucile ran as fast as she could go, 
for all the sympathy of her nature was awakened. 
Soon she returned and was about to place her hands 
on the poor girl’s face, (for she was but a girl in 
years though a woman in appearance), when Miss 


78 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


Dickson pushed her back and said: “You had better 
not touch her; she is dying with syphilis, the most 
dreaded and terrible disease in this district; we 
must be careful, because it is infectious.” 

“Can’t we do something for her?” asked Lucile. “It 
is too bad to let her lie here and die without any 
attention.” 

“Yes, we will do what we can for her. You stand 
here by the door on the sidewalk until I return, and 
I will do what I can to make her as comfortable as 
possible.” Miss Dickson returned in a few minutes 
with rubber gloves and some antiseptics and de¬ 
odorants. With some cotton moistened with an 
antiseptic she bathed the sick girl’s mouth and face, 
then gave her a cup of grape juice. The dying girl 
murmured her thanks. 

“How is it you are here in this condition, and all 
alone?” asked Miss Dickson. In a choking voice, 
caused by her throat being raw with syphilis, the girl 
gasped out: 

“I’m the victim of my own folly. I loved a boy 
and trusted him too far. He deserted me. I fled from 
home and drifted into the District, where I tried 
to drown my troubles by plunging recklessly into 
the life of the place. I have lost in the miserable 
game. A negro man got me in his power and has 
used me as his slave for months. A day or so ago 
I got so weak I could not rustle for him, and he left 
me here to die.” 


RICHARD WHEELER, YOU SHALL PAY 79 

The woman groaned and uttered an oath. “Give 
me a sup :of that grape juice,” she gasped. 

Miss Dickson stooped, lifted her head, pressed the 
glass to her lips. The woman attempted to swallow, 
strangled, gasped, and died. 

Miss Dickson lowered the head back on the mat 
of rags, drew the dirty quilt over the ghastly face 
and quietly said: “We must go and notify the 
authorities.” 

That was late in the afternoon. The next morning 
a man by the name of J. H. Woodroof came with 
some workers to conduct a short service over the 
corpse. Then to the potters’ field went the remains 
of that victim of the Social System. Neither Miss 
Dickson nor Lucile was present that morning. 

On the return from the dead girl’s shack Miss 
Dickson pointed to a house and said: “Lucile, we 
have just seen a white girl die who was the confessed 
slave of a black man. In the parlor of the house just 
in front of us was a sickly, delicate girl. One night 
a big, burly white man entered the house and looked 
the girls over, then walked over to that sickly look¬ 
ing girl, took her by the hand and said, ‘Come on, let’s 
go to your room.’ 

“The girl begged to be excused. The brute dragged 
her down the hall amid the giggles of the other in¬ 
mates and patrons. The madame of that house told 
me she passed that girl’s room and heard her groan. 


80 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


A little later the man left the house, and, as he passed 
the madame at the street door, said: 

“You had better go see about that girl, she is sick; 
why don’t you keep strong, healthy girls? 

“There were strong girls in that house. He 
passed them up, then forced that delicate girl to go 
with him. The madame hastened to the room of the 
girl. As she entered the girl raised her hand and 
gasped: 'He’s killed me.’ The froth came from her 
mouth and in five minutes she was dead. 

“That man went about his business. He was a 
murderer, but had only murdered a girl of the dis¬ 
trict, so what mattered. The girl was buried, and 
the next night another girl was occupying that room. 
These are some of the crimes that are constantly be¬ 
ing committed against the girls in their downward, 
outward course. It is the Social System of America.” 

A grinning, sardonic, shadowy face peered 
over Miss Dickson's shoulder. It was the face of 
the Chief Shade, Lust. 

Passing the negro dive some days later Lucile saw 
another white girl there with the negro man. As 
scene after scene of sin, shame, suffering, crime, and 
degradation passed before her horrified eyes, Lucile 
almost forgot her own misery. 

One afternoon while sitting in Miss Dickson’s 
room, thumbing the pages of a magazine, Miss Dick¬ 
son looked up and remarked: “Lucile, I was just 
thinking of the vice problems, and wondering if the 


RICHARD WHEELER, YOU SHALL PAY 


81 


country will ever be aroused from its deathly sleep, 
and destroy its inhuman slaughter houses, and save 
the youth of this country.” 

Lucile replied: “Since seeing that girl die the other 
day, and remembering the story you told me on the 
way home, I have been so terribly depressed. Why 
is it the world has such a decided double standard of 
morals for men and women? I know I have done 
wrong, I know I am bad, but am I any worse than the 
man who caused me to go down? He is sought after 
by the best people of his acquaintance. Men come 
here and commit the most terrible wrongs against 
girls, then continue in their social and business re¬ 
lationships. Does every city in America have a dis¬ 
trict like this? There was a place in Waco called 
the ‘Reservation.’ I heard my father speak to my 
mother about, but I do not know anything definite 
regarding it.” 

Miss Dickson arose and went to her writing desk. 
“Yes,” she replied, “nearly all the cities in America 
have districts. Some call them by one name and 
some by another, but the same conditions exist in all, 
with probably very few exceptions. In New Orleans 
the district is called by Tom Anderson, ‘Storyville’; 
this one is known as ‘The South End’, in Fort Worth 
it is ‘Hell’s Half Acre’, San Francisco has the ‘Bar¬ 
bary Coast’, Stockton, California, calls her district 
‘The Bull Pens’, Chicago has the ‘Levees’ and other 
places, Houston designates her district ‘The Prairie.’ 


82 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


I might go on indefinitely, for I have had girls in my 
house from nearly all of these cities. 

“Speaking of Waco, I have a little hook here under 
the title of ‘Traps for Girls and Those Who Set 
Them,’ in which is given a fac-simile of a license of¬ 
ficially issued by that city. It is just another method 
of graft by the police and city health officers, for 
the whole system is misleading and dangerous. 

“Those who visit the district in Waco are assured 
by the city officials that there is no danger of con¬ 
tracting any contagious disease. Just anything in 
the world to despoil humanity for a few dollars, and, 
as usual, the unfortunate girl pays the bill. 

“Sometimes I get so wrought up I feel like going 
out and shooting up the whole town. That medical 
examination business is the rottenest fraud ever 
put over the public, for the city physician calls on the 
girl, asks her a few questions, writes out a certifi¬ 
cate, collects his two dollars, takes his departure, 
and the certificate is posted up by the girl who may 
be at that time so terribly diseased she can hardly 
live. Men visit her, see the certificate, think they 
are safe, and become the victims of the deadly 
disease. 

“I can not say that I care what the men contract, 
but the pity :of it is they are not confined to one 
district, but go free to spread the disease all over the 
country, and finally give it to their innocent wives. 


RICHARD WHEELER, YOU SHALL PAY 83 

A great friend of humanity calls the district ‘The 
Desert of Death,’ which I think is a very suitable 
name.” 

Concluding her remarks she picked up the Dallas 
News, scanned its pages for a few minutes and said: 
“Here, Lucile, is a sample of the way justice is given 
a man who breaks the law. I venture this fellow who 
did the killing was the defiler of the girl he was 
questioned about and yet he ruins, kills, and is 
cleared of his crimes and turned loose to continue. 
Let me read you the story. 

RICHARD WHEELER ACQUITTED. 

SLAYER OF EX-MARSHAL VERNER AND HIS SON FOUND 
NOT GUILTY IN JUDGE SCOTT’S COURT. 


“Much interest has been evinced in the trial of Richard Wheeler, 
son of United States Senator Wheeler, at Waco, Texas. Young 
Wheeler was accused of knowing something of the disappearance of 
Ex-Marshal Verner’s daughter, Violet, who left Waco under a shadow. 

“Verner and his son, Will, went to the Turf Saloon where young 
Wheeler and some of his friends were playing pool. Verner threat¬ 
ened to force Wheeler to tell what he knew about the disappearance 
of his, Verner’s, daughter, and Wheeler drew a pistol and killed both 
Verner and his son. The Verners were quite prominent and popular. 

“The defense, in the trial, plead self-defense for young Wheeler, 
and the jury cleared him-” 

Miss Dickson was interrupted by hearing Lucile, 
in a strange harsh voice say: 

“Richard Wheeler cleared and goes free? That 
black-hearted wretch turned loose on society once 
more? He shall not go unpunished, he shall answer 
for his black crimes.” 




84 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


Miss Dickson looked up. Lucile was standing erect, 
her hands were clenched, her long curls hanging 
loosely about her shoulders, her face was set and 
stern, her eyes were blazing, and her form quiver¬ 
ing; she looked like a goddess of vengeance. 

“Richard Wheeler, you may betray trusting girl¬ 
hood, desert innocent childhood, break the heart of a 
beautiful mother, murder unarmed men, and hope 
to go free! NEVER! Sir, you shall pay for your 
wretched crimes, and you shall pay at my hands!” 
She turned to Miss Dickson. 

“You wonder why I am thus moved, why I vow 
vengeance? I will tell you why—I am the girl Rich¬ 
ard Wheeler wronged, whose mother he caused to 
die with a broken heart, and whose father and 
brother he slew—I am Violet Verner. Richard 
Wheeler, you shall pay for your cruel crimes!” 

Miss Dickson sat dumbfounded. Never had Lucile 
looked so beautiful. Never had she seen a woman 
more desperate. As she looked at the rigid, tense 
figure standing with uplifted hand she saw a leader, 
a conqueror, it was stamped all over the being of the 
girl. In silence she waited for Lucile to calm down. 
The tempest swept by, then the tears came, and 
came in torrents, and Lucile threw herself in the lap 
of Miss Dickson, sobbing. From the flaming burst 
of hatred and desire to wreak vengeance on the 
author of her misery, to the realization of her utter 
loneliness and complete ruin she flew, and collapsed. 


RICHARD WHEELER, YOU SHALL PAY 85 

“What can I do? How can I help myself?” she 
thought. “I can kill!” and for a moment murder 
burned in her breast. Paroxysms of suffering were 
followed by storms of hatred and thirst for revenge. 
Miss Dickson stroked Lucile's hair and kept quiet. 
The calm followed the storm. Lucile lifted her head, 
“There,” she said, “I’ve told you what I intended to 
keep a secret.” 

“Never mind, my dear, it is all right, I’m your 
friend,” answered Miss Dickson, “I know how you 
feel, I’ve felt that way myself.” 

Lucile looked this strange woman in the face, 
threw her arms around her neck and asked: “0, 
Mae, why are you in a life of this kind? You are 
so different from the other girls, you are not like 
the people all about us; why do you stay here?” As 
she ceased speaking she dropped her head on Mae 
Dickson’s breast and sobbed. 

The arms of Miss Dickson closed around the yield¬ 
ing form of Lucile. Sitting thus with Lucile’s head 
resting on her shoulder she told her own life story, 
a story that had been locked, as with bolts and bars 
in her breast for years, a story she had told to no 
one else; but somehow she could not refrain from 
unbosoming her heart to this child-woman nestling 
so trustfully in her arms. The narrative revealed 
that Mae, too, was once a mother—a fond mother 
robbed of her only child. 

“When I was quite small my father died,” said 


86 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


Mae. “I was the eldest of three children, and my 
mother almost idolized me. We were poor and I 
went to work that mother’s heavy burden might be 
lightened. The unhappy results are best told in a 
letter mother wrote to an editor of a paper in our 
State. The mournful contents of that letter were 
so burned in my very soul that I have never for¬ 
gotten them. She wrote: 

“ ‘This is the truth of the matter. I am a widow 
with three children, one girl and two boys. My eld¬ 
est is a girl nearly sixteen years old; my next a boy, 
nine, and my baby boy, seven. My husband was a 
poor man, but an honest, faithful one. He died six 
years ago as the result of an accident while working 
at his trade—a brick mason. Since his death times 
have been pretty hard for us. I am not a strong 
woman except in spirit, and did my best to earn 
honest bread for my babies, and am not ashamed 
to tell you that more than once I have gone to bed 
hungry in order that my children might not do so. 

“ ‘Two years ago my eldest girl secured a position 
in this city. The pay was small, but God knows it 
was welcome, and we got along much better. She is 
a handsome girl (pardon a mother’s partiality), 
bright, energetic and calculated to advance in any 
position in which she might be placed. Until she 
went to work to earn a living she had been my con¬ 
stant companion—my joy, my help, and my solace 
while I worked. Naturally I dreamed dreams, and 


RICHARD WHEELER, YOU SHALL PAY 87 

built castles of the time when she would burst into 
a glorious womanhood, possibly become the honored 
wife of some noble, honest man and be my staff in 
declining years when old age compelled me to cease 
work. Wasn’t it a laudable ambition? 

“ ‘But such will never be. Young, impressionable, 
unused to the world, my little girl, my hope and joy, 
is now an outcast from decent society, and hides her 
shame in the only honest place left open to her—her 
mother’s humble home. She loved, trusted, and has 
been basely wronged by one who is a lion in society, 
but whose heart is as black as death itself, and she 
is now thrown an outcast upon the world. 

“ ‘What can I do ? My very soul revolts at the 
idea of parading my darling’s sins and errors before 
the public. I have thought of legal redress, but 
shrink at the idea of the horrible publicity that nec¬ 
essarily follows. God knows I did not deserve this 
blow, nor did my poor, little fatherless girl. Why 
could not her seducer have spared my one precious 
little ewe lamb? I believe I could have given up both 
my boys with less regret. She was so handsome, so 
gentle, so sweet and loving, it breaks my heart to 
see her wronged so horribly, and not one strong arm 
to be lifted in her defense. 

“ ‘Not one word of reproach has she heard from 
my lips. I know she did wrong, but she was young, 
impetuous, and her love caused her to forget her 
mother’s teachings. She came at last to me like a 


88 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


tired dove, spattered with the mud and slime of sin, 
but I could not reproach her. Broken-hearted, she 
came, repentant and weary of life, and, being her 
mother, I took her in my arms as when she was a 
baby, and she sobbed out her woes upon my breast. 
I knew I was the only remaining thread that held 
her to the earth, and one harsh word from me would 
have closed the scene. 

“ ‘Oh! That her brave, honest father was alive to 
avenge her wrongs! He would neither eat nor sleep 
until her betrayer’s blood had dampened the earth 
which he disgraces by living on it. 

“‘What can I do? Am I not helpless? Is there 
any method by which I could possibly secure redress, 
or any balm that would ease my pain? Is there any 
power on earth or in Heaven that could possibly undo 
the horrible wrong, or that could wipe out the shame 
and disgrace that has been so mercilessly heaped 
upon my fatherless girl and my family? None that 
I know of. Hence I am forced to carry the burden 
of another’s sin, and in addition to the sting of pov¬ 
erty, must also bear disgrace and shame. 

“ ‘I have told you the honest truth, every word. I 
have given you my true name, my daughter’s name, 
and the name of her shameless betrayer. If you 

doubt my story write or call on Captain-or 

Judge-of this city, who will substantiate every 

word I say. My object in writing you is to ask you 
to put something in your paper that may possibly 




RICHARD WHEELER, YOU SHALL PAY 89 

prevent some other poor girl from falling prey to 
such heartless fiends. So far as mine is concerned, 
there is no remedy, unless a just God, who has prom¬ 
ised to watch over the widows and orphans, may 
avenge her wrong, and forgive her sin, as He did 
the repentant woman who was dragged before Him 
for judgment, and to whom He said: “Neither do I 
condemn thee: go and sin no more.” 

“ ‘If you can only prevent the slaughter of one 
poor, little, helpless, fatherless girl, God knows you 
ought to have a crown of glory. Only a mother 
knows how dear they are, and how horrible it is 
to lose them. 

“ ‘As for me, I feel that I have received the hard¬ 
est blow to be given. I am not very old, as the world 
calls it, but my years have been doubled during the 
past six weeks, and my only desire for longer life 
is to live to shelter my poor, erring, but much 
wronged child. Only a mother’s love can overlook 
the sin-stains and the shame, and take the wounded, 
bleeding dove to her bosom and endeavor to soothe 
her anguish. This is all I can do, because peace, hope 
and joy has fled from my humble roof forever. 

“ ‘Asking your pardon for intruding my sorrows 
upon you, I will close by saying that I have done so 
upon the advice of the pastor of the church to which 
I belong, who, with me, believes you may, at least, 
be instrumental in preventing some helpless lamb 


90 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


from hereafter becoming the prey of a human wolf. 
My pastor’s name is Rev. Jones, to whom I refer you 
as to the truthfulness of this letter.’ 

“When my baby girl came,” continued Mae, “my 
mother wanted us to keep it, but some misguided re¬ 
ligious people insisted that it would be best for the 
baby and for us if it was placed in a good home some¬ 
where; so they took it away, and I never learned 
what they did with it. My poor mother grieved 
herself to death, my two little brothers were taken 
and either placed in an orphan home or given to 
some one to rear. They were taken away right after 
the funeral and I have never heard from them since. 
My life was so dismally dark and I was so miserable 
that I cared not a straw what became of me. 

“The young man who led me to love and trust him 
was of a well-to-do family, and I was so silly as to 
adore him, for he was my first sweetheart. After 
mother died, my life was so lonely and desolate that 
I brooded over my troubles until I grew to hate the 
man who was the cause of it all. While passing a 
church one night, I noticed there was to be a wed¬ 
ding. A strange irresistible fascination seized me 
to see who was to be made happy while I was so 
wretched. Drawing near, I secluded myself where 
I could get a good view and soon the carriages began 
to arrive. One drew up in front of the church door 
and the man, who was the father of my child, lifted 
from that carriage a beautiful girl whom he led into 


RICHARD WHEELER, YOU SHALL PAY 91 

the church, amid the lovely strains of music, which 
seemed like the drums of death to me; and as I 
stood out in the darkness of the night, with clenched 
fists and gritting teeth, the minister performed the 
ceremony which made that man and woman husband 
and wife. As they left the church I swore vengeance 
of the most terrible character. Securing a revolver, 
which I concealed in my wrap, I went early one 
morning to the beautiful home where he had taken 
his bride, intending to shoot her down in cold blood 
before his eyes. 

“In response to my ringing, the man opened the 
door. When he recognized me he asked what brought 
me there. I stepped inside and told him I wanted to 
see his wife. He refused. I was young and silly. He 
was my first sweetheart. Strange to say, as I talked 
with him, there in the very house where he was liv¬ 
ing with his bride my desperate love for him re¬ 
turned like a mighty, rushing tide and the world 
grew dark about me. I just wanted to die, and I 
wanted him to kill me. I drew the revolver from 
my wrap and tried to thrust it into his hands, sob¬ 
bing, ‘0, my darling! I love you so desperately; you 
are the father of my child; you are the destroyer of 
my soul, the murderer of my dear mother; and now, 
my dear, I want you to finish the work you started. 
Take this pistol and shoot me.’ He fell back, com¬ 
pletely abashed. Still I pleaded, falling on my knees, 
closing my eyes and waiting for him to do it. He 


92 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


had laid the pistol aside and was turning to leave, 
when I arose, and with the calmness of desperation 
said: 4 You have ruined, wrecked my life because I 
loved and trusted you and you promised me hap¬ 
piness. I do not care to live. Sometimes, when you 
are the happiest with your bride, may the thought of 
your miserable Clare come to mar that happiness. 
Goodbye !’ I snatched the pistol and ran from that 
house intending to end it all, but something kept me 
from it. 

“The next day the local papers contained an ac¬ 
count of the suicide of one of the city’s most prom¬ 
ising young men. The reason for which was sup¬ 
posed to have been a quarrel with his beautiful young 
bride who had returned to her parents’ home the 
day previous, with the avowed intention of divorc¬ 
ing him. So you see the wrong-doer will, sooner or 
later, get his punishment. Evil may triumph for a 
space, but sooner or later ‘God will with His mighty 
arm lay bare and vindicate the wrongs.’ 

“A man sought me out and I married him just to 
have companionship. I learned later he was a 
saloon-keeper and a gambler. He treated me well 
for a while, and we were contented; at least I was, 
and he seemed to love me. When adversity came in 
his business he got to drinking, then taught me to 
drink—light wines at first, then heavier drinks. To 
make a long story short, he forced other men on me 
while we were under the influence of liquor. He was 


RICHARD WHEELER, YOU SHALL PAY 93 

killed in a gambling-house one night, and I drifted 
to the district. Time and again have I tried to 
straighten up and quit, but there is not a ghost of a 
chance for me until I can get sufficient funds to go 
to some other country, where I have never been seen 
nor heard of. I live in that hope, and that is why I 
do not any longer receive men into my room, nor use 
tobacco nor drugs, and have quit drinking except 
when in special trouble and intend to quit that.” Mae 
was silent for a moment, then she added: 

“My dear, you spoke of getting revenge, a thing 
that is perfectly natural under the circumstances 
when we are wronged and see the law broken age ; - 
and again and no recourse left us, we natur; 
like being a law unto ourselves, and avenging the 
horrible wrongs we have suffered. That is the way 
I felt, but I do not feel that way now; for I realize 
that my getting revenge does not make me one iota 
the better off. Somehow, I have it in my mind that 
there is a clearing-house some place, where all 
wrongs will be righted and all sins will be punished. 
We may have to wait long, but it will come around if 
we just wait long enough. Revenge may be sweet, 
but it is cruel, selfish, and disastrous; and as Jeremy 
Taylor says: ‘On him that takes revenge, revenge 
shall be taken, it is like a rolling stone, which, when a 
man hath forced up a hill, will return upon him with 
greater violence, and break those bones whose sin¬ 
ews gave it motion.’ Believe me, whether God pays 


94 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


any attention to us or not, in some way, He sees that 
retribution overtakes the wicked somewhere, some¬ 
time, and you may rest assured this man Wheeler 
will not go unpunished.” 

Lucile looked up into the face of her companion 
and said: “Mae, you ought to have been a preacher.” 

Mae smiled, “A preacher ought to be a good per¬ 
son, and I am wicked; but, one thing I do believe, in 
every station in life are opportunities for one to do 
some good, and I don’t think a good deed is ever 
lost.” 

These two persons so strangely brought together, 
under such peculiar circumstances, were blindly 
groping for the right, while continuing in the wrong. 
Were they altogether to blame? 

Have you not heard how The Preacher, back 
across the hills of the long ago, said: “Straight is 
the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto 
life, and few there be that find it.” 

Indeed, there are few who FIND the way, most 
people have to be SHOWN the way, :or they perish, 
and these two had no one to show them. 


CHAPTER TEN 

THE GIANT OF THE DESERT. 


W HEN we speak of the desert we think of vast 
stretches of wind-swept, sand-covered wastes 
where the owl, the wolf, and the deadly rattlesnakes 
hold sway. A boundless expanse where human love, 
human passion, and human hate never come; but 
where the sad winds sigh and the hot sun scorches 
to death the feeble vegetation that struggles to exist 
in the burning sands. Such is the desert; but there 
is another desert, just as desolate, just as dreary and 
as far separated from the good, the pure, the joyful, 
as are the mighty lengths of barren, desolate, useless, 
unwatered earth that we find here and there. The 
desert is a place to be dreaded and avoided, for here 
the poisonous wind sweeps the earth with its death 
dealing power. This other desert is graphically de¬ 
scribed by J. W. Cadwell in the following lines: 

THE TRAGEDY OF LIFE. 

“I read of a desert that’s wild and drear 
A Sahara’s sad desolate waste, 

Where robber bands and drifting sands 
Add peril to this way of death. 

But there comes to me now another sad scene 
That would baffle a poet’s pen, 

To give but a glimpse of this desert place, 

That’s found in the lives of men. 

A desert of wretchedness, misery, and woe; 

Surrounded by a raging sea, 

95 


96 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


Where the wild waves break o'er the rocks of hate 
That guards the grave of Hope. 

No oasis of peace to comfort the heart 
Of the traveler weary and worn, 

No fountain clear, nor mirage near 
To hasten the wanderer on. 

No message of welcome, nor touch of affection 
To drive the heartache away, 

No flowers to brighten, nor cool winds to lighten 
The hours of a long, dreary day. 

0 friend, ’tis the desert of a blighted life, 
Disappointed and without hope above. 

The jackals rob and the wild winds sob, 

At the sepulchre of a buried love. 

Yes, a blighted life, a shipwrecked life, 

A life of sorrow and sin, 

Where the burdened sigh, and the fallen cry 
For a life that might have been.” 

Into the Desert of Death, police protected and of¬ 
ficially guarded, to see that no good enters there, we 
invite the reader once more on a dark, misty night 
when the glimmering lights flicker in the wind. On 
the corner of Market and Wood Streets was the 
saloon of George Barker, considered by the police to 
be the toughest section of the South End. Business 
was dull that night, as result of which, the street 
light had been extinguished to lower expenses and 
for other purposes which the reader can well sur¬ 
mise. Jo Sally, the bartender, was a product of the 
Social System that generates and fosters the Dis¬ 
trict. His mother was an outcast, his grandmother 
was an outcast, his great grandmother was an out- 


THE GIANT OF THE DESERT 


97 


cast, and for ten generations back his maternal ante¬ 
cedents were of the scarlet sisterhood; but back 
there somewhere some of his antecedents were of the 
old type of honest Americans. 

Occasionally the blood of past generations would 
struggle in his veins for something better than a 
life of crime and shame. 

When a boy, in the public school, he had tried to 
get ahead, but the other boys had called him names 
and made fun of his immoral mother. The girls 
shunned him as if he was some deadly monster. How 
his heart had longed, at times, for a kind word and 
for decent fellowship. At other times he was reck¬ 
less and did not care. It was those times that always 
singled him out as a bad case. 

When he was only ten years of age a boy shot him 
through the breast just above his heart and the 
doctor said he would die, while others said he was 
too mean to die. The only name he ever knew was 
just Jo. His mother was known as Sally, therefore 
the boys called him Jo Sally. George Barker em¬ 
ployed him as saloon-keeper and bouncer in general. 
Jo had become so used to the ways of the district 
that he was never moved at any kind of crime or 
suffering. He had a certain amount of brute cour¬ 
age that made him feared, and his big fists com¬ 
manded the respect of the frequenters of George 
Barker's dives. The saloon was just a kind of be¬ 
ginning, for extending from it down Market one 


98 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


way and Wood the other were rows of the vilest 
kind of “cribs,” where boys and strangers purchased 
disease and death at one dollar a package. On this 
particular night Barker’s place was deserted, save 
the bartender and three or four girls who had come 
in from the cribs and were sitting around the stove. 
Jo never knew anything but to obey his master, 
George. When George said bounce a man from the 
saloon, out the man went without ceremony. If it 
was a woman she fared just the same. Tonight is 
one of Jo’s meditative hours. He is wondering how 
many generations back his people were bad. “Is 
there any good in me at all, why do I want to get 
out and be somebody,” he mused. George was 
uptown at some gambling house and Jo yawned, 
picked up the paper, turned the pages and his eye 
fell on a caption. He looked at it, read it. 

FINDS HELPLESS CRIPPLED GIRL IN FOREST FIRE 

AND THEN USES OWN JUDGMENT AS TO FATE. 

“What is this?” thought Jo. “What did he do with 
her ?” “I’ll read it.” So he read from the daily paper: 

Probably you never heard of Louis Lejenne. Louis never had 
a father. His mother was an outcast. She was hounded by the 
police until, one night she waded into the river and never came back. 

Society had done nothing for Louis or his mother but evil. Why 
should Society ever expect anything from Louis but evil? Louis 
was sullen and unintelligent and vindictive. Any crime was all 
right, according to his vague code, if you could get away with it. 

JUDGE SENDS LOUIS TO REFORMATORY. 

The first time he was caught stealing, the juvenile judge lec¬ 
tured him kindly and turned him loose; later, after he had entered 


THE GIANT OF THE DESERT 


99 


a box car and had stolen an armful of brass fixtures, the exasper¬ 
ated judge sent him to the reformatory. 

Louis emerged a young man with ambitions for porch climbing. 
Some months later he was in the county jail. Most of the next fif¬ 
teen years Louis spent in the jail or in the penitentiary. 

The “dicks” said there never was a more ingrained crook than 
Louis. He had been arrested and had served time for the com¬ 
mission of a dozen different offenses. He had no sense of right 
or wrong, they said. He was ignorant of the meaning of honor. 
He had committed the worst offense of the underworld through 
squealing on his pals, and even they had no good word for him. 

Louis was existing in an abandoned hovel with a dog (whose 
pedigree was no better than his own) when he shot and killed a 
man who failed to raise his hands quickly enough. Two weeks later 
Detective Reilly captured him where he was hiding in the mountains. 

This time Louis was sent up for life. To Louis, Reilly symbolized 
Society, with which he was fighting a losing battle, so he swore 
that day, somehow, he’d get loose and kill Reilly. Reilly laughed, 
for he had been threatened many times before. 

LOUIS TOO CLEVER FOR THE DETECTIVES. 

Louis did escape—after he had served four years. 

The sheriff’s office was notified and a posse was formed from 
occupants of a summer resort a few miles away. The posse struck 
Louis’ trail and the next day fought a running battle with him. 
They thought they had him cornered in a canyon whose walls were 
too steep to climb before the posse could close in on him. But Louis 
showed himself too cunning for them. He lighted a series of small 
fires across the canyon. By night the timber was ablaze, and the 
forest fire was sweeping down the canyon. The posse was cut off 
until Louis could make his escape through the other end of the 
canyon into a wilderness where a search for him would be useless. 

Louis, elated at the success of his maneuver, struck off up the 
stream for the other end of the canyon—for the fire gradually was 
spreading behind him. 

And then he came upon a cabin with a lone occupant. He would 
have passed if she hadn’t called to him. 

NO CHANCE TO GET OUT ON CRUTCHES. 

“Where is the fire? Is it coming this way?” anxiously asked a 
pale-faced girl who appeared in the door of the cabin. 

“Forest fire. Better get out o’ here quick, kid,” answered Louis. 

“Get out? Look at this!” said the girl, and waved the crutch 
which she carried. “No chance for me to get out. I can’t climb the 
rocks in that canon!” 

“Where’s your dad? Get him to get you out.” 

“Dad went to town last night. He couldn’t get back now any¬ 
way. He’s an officer, you know. We came here on our vacation 
every year. They always call on Reilly if they need help.” 

“Reilly!” exclaimed Louis. “Is Dan Reilly your father?” 



“HERE, JO, GIVE US A HAND.” 




























































































































THE GIANT OF THE DESERT 


101 


And when the girl replied that he was, Louis commenced cursing. 
He cursed her father, and cursed the girl herself. 

“And I only wish your father was here to burn with you!” he 
concluded, as he abandoned the girl and plunged into the forest 
again. 

The girl screamed when he reappeared a few minutes later, his 
eyes wild with rage and hate. “What are you going to do?” she 
shrieked. 

“Going to make sure that one Reilly brat gets what’s cornin’ to 
the family,” growled Louis. “Somethin’ might stop the fire before 
it gets here!” And the murderer rolled the cripple in a blanket, 
tossed her over his shoulder and started back for the fire area. 

No one will ever know Louis’ mental processes on that short jour¬ 
ney back to the fire. 

The story ends in the combined camp of the posse and fire fight¬ 
ers.. Reilly was there. That night Louis, terribly burned, staggered 
from the stream, after having come through the fire, and gave him¬ 
self up. In a water-soaked blanket in his arms was Reilly’s 
daughter unharmed. 

As Jo Sally finished reading he let the paper fall 
on his knee, raised his eyes, looked at the stove and 
muttered under his breath, “Well that tough guy 
had some good in him after all, didn’t he?” 

Thus he sat looking at the stove when a muffled 
scream reached his ear. Quick as thought his apron 
was flung from his waist and he sped out into the 
dark, on the Market Street side of the saloon. A 
cab was standing back in the shadow of the building, 
and two men were struggling with a woman. Jo 
rushed up to them. One of the men recognized him 
and called: “Here, Jo, give us a hand.” And he did, 
so quick those men scarcely knew what hit them. 
His ponderous fists shot out and the men went flying 
to the ground, he snatched the girl in his arms and 
dashed down the street towards the Star Mansion. 
The girl, who was none other than Lucile Lloyd, 
thought she had fallen from the frying pan into the 


102 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


fire for she never thought for one moment that the 
notorious Jo Sally, the giant, whom she recognized, 
would have one clean or good thought in his big 
frame. As he dashed along, bearing the girl in his 
strong arms, as if she were a doll, he asked: “What 
were they trying to do with you, kid?” 

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I was going on an 
errand with one of the girls from the Mansion when 
a man sprang forward and grabbed me. I tried to 
scream and he put his hand over my mouth. Then 
you came.” 

“I know you,” he said. “You stay at Mae Dick¬ 
son’s. I’ll take you there.” A few minutes later 
Lucile was placed by the giant on the front porch 
of the Mansion none the worse for her experience 
save the fright. She could hardly believe her ears 
or eyes; had the giant actually rescued her and 
brought her home? It was true, she was safe and 
sound, and there he stood. “Wait a minute, let me 
pay you for your trouble,” she said, “it was kind of 
you to help me.” 

“I don’t want any pay,” he replied. “I just did it 
because I wanted to do something good; hope you’re 
not hurt.” 

“Not in the least,” she answered. “Let me thank 
you, Jo,” holding out her hand. 

The giant turned and walked away as Lucile 
entered the house. That was the first word of com¬ 
mendation he had received in years. He felt good, 


THE GIANT OF THE DESERT 


103 


he was going to try something else that was kind. 
When he entered the saloon one of the men was there 
and he bitterly reproached Jo for his interference. 
All the bad blood in Jo’s big body boiled and the sav¬ 
age in his nature rushed to the top. A terrible fight 
ensued and the result was a dead man in the saloon, 
a trial in court, and later a giant body dangling at 
the end of a rope because a product of society’s social 
system had followed the one good impulse of his life 
and rescued a girl from a fate worse than death. 
The funeral was conducted by a Catholic priest, and 
a few women from the underworld, including Lucile 
and Mae, together with a few loiterers, were the 
mourners, or rather the few who followed the body 
to the grave. 


CHAPTER ELEVEN 
OUT OF THE DISTRICT. 

UCILE hastened to her room with a settled 



-L' sense of certainty that the girl, Mattie, who 
had requested her to go with her on an errand had 
led her into the trap near George Barker’s place. She 
had recognized one of the men, who was a frequenter 
of the Mansion, and was intimate with Mattie. She 
determined to await further developments before 
telling Miss Dickson about her thrilling experience. 
Those developments came sooner than she antici¬ 
pated. A few days after the experience at Barker’s 
Duke Darling made his appearance at the Mansion 
and passing Lucile in the hall, chucked her under the 
chin with the remark: “How are you, kid?” 

Quick as a flash her hand gave a resounding 
whack on his cheek, and he was told to keep in his 
place. The devil flamed in him. He wheeled and 
grabbed her around the waist, forced her back and 
kissed her in the mouth, then, dragging her along 
the hall, muttered: “My smart Miss, you have played 
the virtuous role long enough, we know you are not 
as straight as you would have us believe. You are 
going to the room with me this very hour.” 

The house was almost deserted. Miss Dickson was 
at the uptown place and most of the girls were out 
shopping, and had they been there, would have only 
laughed at the struggle and wondered how it would 


104 


OUT OF THE DISTRICT 


105 


terminate. The man had carefully planned his game 
by the help of the girl, Mattie. He knew there was 
no help at hand for his victim. He wrenched open 
a bedroom door and was dragging her in when sud¬ 
denly there was a crash and he staggered back, 
crumpling upon the floor. 

Black Martha, with flaming eyes, held a broken 
chair in her hands; she stood over the white beast 
daring him to “Git up and try any ob yo’ trickery on 
decent white folks and Til break another cheer ober 
yo’ head.” 

Just at that moment the street door opened and 
in walked Miss Dickson. Coming forward she wanted 
to know what all the trouble was about. Martha 
volunteered an answer: “Dis low down Duke Darling 
wuz draggin’ Miss Lucile into dat bedroom against 
her will an’ I up and hit ’im wid dis cheer, wisht Fd 
broke his nake.” 

As the villain fell to the floor he dragged Lucile 
with him, but she quickly regained her feet, stepped 
into her room for a moment, returning just as Duke 
Darling arose from the floor. The man was slightly 
dazed by the blow Martha had given him, but speed¬ 
ily recovered and began raving with terrible oaths 
at the “black wench” who had dared to interfere 
with his plans. He was infuriated because he had 
failed in his wicked purpose, but still believed he 
could consummate his desire. 

“What do you mean by using force on any person 


106 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


in my house?” asked Miss Dickson, with flashing 
eyes, while Martha stood with the broken chair 
in her hands. 

The man was vicious, fully aroused, and had no 
thought of being defeated in his devilish designs. 
He turned on Miss Dickson in fury: 

“Mae Dickson, you have been putting on too many 
airs of late, for a woman in your business; what 
right have you to keep a girl here that is not a public 
character? We are aware you have some game you 
are playing on us, and I am determined to let you 
know that it is ended. This girl was forced to the 
district because of the men that went to her place, 
and when she came here she tried to pretend she 
was too good for this kind of life. I bet the boys five 
hundred dollars I could do as I pleased with this girl 
and she has insulted me time and again in this house, 
a thing I never stood for and don’t intend to stand 
for, not by a-of a sight. 

“That fool, Jo Sally, blocked my game the other 
night and will hang for his folly. He killed one of 
the most influential and useful ward heelers in Dal¬ 
las, so the Directorate has decided to make an ex¬ 
ample of him and let him hang. I tried to avoid any 
scene in your house and planned to take this kid 
elsewhere, but Jo beat me in the game. I’m going to 
have this girl. If you will turn her over to me without 
further trouble I will give you the five hundred dol- 


OUT OP THE DISTRICT 


107 


lars. If you don’t I’m going to take her anyway. 
What do you say?” 

Mae Dickson stood for a moment, carefully col¬ 
lecting her words, then said: “Duke Darling, I know 
you, I know your financial and political standing in 
Dallas County, and realize that your word is law 
with the Directorate, to whom we look for protection 
and that you generally get what you go after in this 
city. Whom you desire, you set up; whom you desire, 
you put down. At your word protection will be with¬ 
drawn from poor Jo Sally and he will hang for doing 
the only decent thing he ever did in his life—pro¬ 
tecting a girl in distress. You have it in your power 
to work my financial ruin, and I do not in the least 
doubt your statement that you do not intend to let 
anything block you in your purpose to completely 
defile this girl whom I have chosen to protect to the 
limit of my ability. 

“Duke Darling, I am a wicked woman, my guilt is 
great, and I am largely at your mercy, but, listen to 
me—I’ll die before you shall harm this girl in my 
house.” 

With a horrible oath he exclaimed: “Mae Dickson, 
I have my mind made up: if it takes your death to 
clear the way for the consummation of my desire, 
then you die; have this girl I will, and have her now. 
To let you know I’m in dead earnest, to show you 
my power and to pay a debt I owe, I’m going to kill 
this black wench who dared strike me with a chair, 


108 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


and you will swear I did it in self-defense, or you 
will hang for the act yourself.” 

He deliberately drew a revolver from his pocket, 
turned towards Martha, who stood transfixed with 
horror, like a statue in ebony, with the broken chair 
in her hands. Mae Dickson’s blood went cold for she 
knew the character of the man before her. Lucile, 
with blanched face, stood in the doorway of her 
room, apparently paralyzed. The man slowly raised 
the gun to the level of Martha’s heart. 

A sharp report rang forth. Duke Darling uttered 
an oath as his revolver fell from his shattered hand. 
He turned half round and faced Lucile who calmly 
stood with smoking revolver in her hand. She was 
in the calm of desperation. Her words were spoken 
slowly. They cut like steel. 

“Duke Darling, you have uncovered the fiendish 
treachery of your wicked soul. Should I give you 
justice the next shot would find a vital place in your 
corrupt body. You are in my power. Take your 
worthless life from the hands of one you would 
utterly destroy, and leave this house, and leave it 
now.” 

There was no mistaking the tone of voice nor the 
awful purpose that gleamed in the dark eyes of that 
girl driven to desperation. The man gave her one 
searching look and strode from the building. As the 


OUT OF THE DISTRICT 


109 


door closed behind him Lucile collapsed. “0, why 
do I live? Why do I bring nothing but sorrow to 
those who endeavor to befriend me?” she wailed. 

Martha fell at her knees, forgetting where she 
was and scarcely realizing what she was saying, 
“Miss Vi’let, I owes you my life, dat rascal would hab 
killed me, I saw it in his eye.” 

“Hush, Martha, you make me feel terrible; had 
it not been for me your life would not have been 
endangered,” sighed the poor girl. 

Miss Dickson had come forward, she took Lucile 
in her arms and sobbed, “My brave, brave girl, your 
sweet life is in terrible danger, but do not fear for 
me; I am used to dealing with such characters. It 
is all right, my dear, you did the only thing that 
could be done.” With this she drew Lucile into her 
bedroom and they dropped on the floor locked in 
each other’s arms while Martha went mumbling to 
her own room. 

The gun used by Lucile was of small caliber and 
did not make a loud report, so none of the inmates 
were attracted to the hall, and nothing was said, at 
the table, about the afternoon’s occurrence, for 
which Mae Dickson was thankful. 

Duke Darling realized he had made a false play. 
He went to a drug store to have his hand bandaged 
and told the doctor he had been accidentally shot by a 
friend and did not want anything said about it. His 
hand attended to, he sought the seclusion of his 


110 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


private apartment. He wanted to think and be 
alone. 

Some moments passed before either Mae Dickson 
or Lucile Lloyd spoke. They were thinking and suf¬ 
fering. Mae was thinking of the danger confronting 
this child-woman she so loved and wanted to protect. 
Lucile was thinking of the trouble she was causing 
the woman who had befriended her and was plan¬ 
ning how she could get away from Dallas and relieve 
Mae of further peril. Thus they mused awhile, then 
Miss Dickson said: “This man Darling is a terrible 
man when he is fully aroused, and he was almost 
insane today with impure desire, wounded pride, 
and insulted manhood. He is a shrewd politician, a 
bright financier, and a social star. When he gets 
quiet he may decide you have done him a personal 
favor by preventing the crime he would have com¬ 
mitted and he may become your friend. On the other 
hand he may be more determined than ever to work 
your ruin. In either case you have him alone to 
watch. If he decides to befriend you the others will 
let you alone, if he decides to get you for himself he 
will pass the word around and you will not be mo¬ 
lested by other men. His word is law in this district. 
When he thinks the matter over I have no fear of 
his trying to do anything to interfere with my bus¬ 
iness, for he knows I have a string or two to pull 
that it is best for him not to trifle with.” 

“I thank you for your kindness to me,” said Lucile, 


OUT OF THE DISTRICT 


Ill 


sobbing, “but I am so sorry I have caused you the 
trouble I have. If I only knew some place I could go 
and get away from this horrid district, I would leave 
at once. It seems some unseen power is dogging my 
life. Will I be able to remain here and not be forced 
into the life of a public woman? The whole thing 
grows more horrible to me every day I live. Death 
to me is far preferable to a life lower than the brutes 
of the field.” 

The two women arose from the floor and seated 
themselves in rocking chairs. Miss Dickson thought 
for a moment, “Lucile, there is something on my 
mind I wish to talk with you about. As I have often 
said this is a miserable life at the very best from 
any standpoint, and when we consider the large 
number of girls who are forced into it and are held 
in it as abject slaves :of the most brutal men in the 
world, we wonder why God does not blot this country 
off the earth. 

“In all the brute creation there is no dumb animal 
so vile as to perpetrate such crimes against its mate 
as men commit against women. Do not misunder¬ 
stand me: I know there is nothing in the world viler 
than a vile woman, but in most cases men are respon¬ 
sible for her beginning her vileness. 

“Consider the age of consent law, enacted by men. 
In this State a girl is protected until she is twelve 
years of age, that is the law provides protection for 
her to that age. That is just the time she needs pro- 


112 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


tection the most. But let a girl be deceived by a boy 
and ruined, if she goes into court to get redress for 
her injury, she gets the worst of it, because you can 
scarcely secure a jury of men who will convict a 
man for immoral association if they believe the girl 
has been with any other man, and there are always 
fellows who are willing to help a friend out by 
swearing they have been familiar with the girl. Then 
she is turned out with an additional brand of im¬ 
purity to live down. No wonder so many girls be¬ 
come public characters. The present Social System 
seems to have been invented by Satan, and he cer¬ 
tainly sees that it is worked to a finish. 

“Not all the evil dwells in the vice districts by any 
means. Read the daily papers, see the divorce cases, 
look how women in respectable walks of life dress 
and deport themselves. The entire social fabric is 
tainted, and not one thing short of a revolution will 
change conditions. 

“This country is getting almost as corrupt as 
France. The French voted the Bible out of their 
borders and afterwards fished the lifeless bodies of 
ten thousand murdered babies out of the sewers of 
Paris in one year. Many states in this country have 
voted the Bible out of their public schools, and large 
numbers of pulpits, judging from the announce¬ 
ments of subjects as published in the daily papers, 
are not giving the public very much Bible truth. We 


OUT OF THE DISTRICT 


113 


are said to be an enlightened race, but enlightenment 
without wholesome constraint, through proper in¬ 
struction, only intensifies brutality. 

“Your short stay in this house has clearly shown 
you who are the most brutal frequenters of the 
District. You know it is such men as Duke Dar¬ 
ling, who have had every educational advantage, 
that know how to be brutal; of course, it’s a kind 
of refined brutality, the more horrible on that ac¬ 
count. 

“Lucile, some one is going to arise some day and 
organize a movement that will forever wipe away 
the present Social System. There are born in the 
United States annually one hundred and fifty thou¬ 
sand babies under the scarlet curse. What becomes 
of these babies? Many of them never know any¬ 
thing but a life of vice, like poor Jo Sally. What 
do they owe society? What has society done for 
them? Nothing but hunt them from place to place 
and force them down until tired of their crimes, then 
society, to protect society, and not to redeem the 
poor unfortunate, proceeds to execute the offender 
for the good of the Commonwealth. It makes me 
heart sick. 

“I wish I had the ability, I would undertake some¬ 
thing worth while for the overthrow of social im¬ 
purity. My life already is blackened, there is no 
hope for me to ever be anything that amounts to 
much, and I am in constant peril. My life may be 


114 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


taken at any time, and if I die here, what will it 
amount to? If there is any mention made :of it 
at all, the papers will announce that Mae Dickson, 
one of the women in the District, has cashed in and 
gone on her long journey, meaning to hell, the only 
place supposed to be open to an outcast. 

“Eternity alone will reveal the far-reaching and 
savage destruction wrought by the present Social 
System. To overthrow it will cost lives and require 
money now being used by the vice lords, which 
could be wrenched from their hands and directed 
into channels for the betterment of the race. There 
are just two things in all the universe that are hon¬ 
ored with the title of ‘almighty.’ God is known as 
The Almighty, but men have given that title to the 
dollar and call it the almighty dollar. In the world 
of humanity the dollar does talk. To organize a 
revolution out of the broken, blasted lives of those 
wearing the scarlet brand will be a Herculean un¬ 
dertaking, but money will do it. If money, properly 
used, can give a man like Duke Darling absolute 
control of a district in a city like Dallas, then money 
can work wonders in America.” 

As Mae talked an imperfect, intangible thought 
flickered for a moment in Lucile’s mind, then it was 
lost in the change of the subject, when Mae sud¬ 
denly remarked: “Lucile, I wonder why I didn’t 
think of it before, there is a place at Arlington, be¬ 
tween here and Fort Worth, known as the Berachah 


OUT OP THE DISTRICT 


115 


Home, where you may be able to stay for a while; 
if they have room, I know you can get in. The 
superintendent and his wife come to the District 
and visit the girls and conduct religious services. 
They have not been here for a long, long while. If 
you can get in that home, you will be safe. We 
will go out tomorrow and see what can be done.” 

That night, while Miss Dickson was at the uptown 
place, Lucile was in charge of the Mansion. She 
had sewed a pocket to her dress and in it rested a 
tiny, but deadly revolver. At all hazards she would 
not be overcome by any of the frequenters of the 
Mansion. The dull season of the year was on, not 
many patrons came that night, and at midnight she 
closed the doors, went to her room, and sat down 
to read until Miss Dickson returned. Sitting there 
she heard a voice in song. The words came steal¬ 
ing in from somewhere, she could not exactly tell 
whence they came. Faintly, softly: 

“What about the life you’re living? 

Yes, I mean your life today; 

In that great eternal morning, 

At the Judgment, will it pay?” 

Lucile knew it came from outside the building. 
She extinguished her light, slipped to the window, 
raised the shade, lifted the sash, and peered out 
upon the street. A group of religious workers were 
on the corner and a man, with a guitar, was singing 
a simple little song to the tune of “Take the Name 
of Jesus With You.” 


116 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


The voice of the singer was clear, strong, accus¬ 
ing, appealing and tender, as he unconsciously 
turned and looked straight at the window where 
Lucile crouched in the dark. He was singing the 
chorus: 


“Will it pay, will it pay, 

At the last great judgment day? 

Will it pay, will it pay, 

At the last great judgment day?” 

There was something in the voice of the singer, 
more than in the song itself, that penetrated the 
heart of the listening girl. The singer raised his 
finger, pointed directly at the window behind which 
Lucile was listening, and said: 

“This is what will pay: 

“Take the name of Jesus with you, 

Child of sorrow and of woe, 

It will joy and comfort give you, 

Take it then, where'er you go.” 

The singer ceased, the song died away in the dis¬ 
tance, a man stepped forward, lifted his hand and 
said, “Let us pray.” The little group of workers 
knelt on the street, the motley crowd, gathered 
about them, bowed their heads, and the man began 
to pray: 

“0, God, our Father, we are here tonight on our 
way to the judgment, we humbly ask of Thee to 
bless our feeble efforts in behalf of some poor hell- 
bound soul. Let the voice of prayer, song or ex- 


OUT OF THE DISTRICT 


117 


hortation break through the thick walls of these 
gilded palaces of shame and reach some sin-chained 
human being for whom Christ, Thy Son, died. 

“0, God, Thou didst not create men and women 
for this kind of life. There are those in this Dis¬ 
trict of Death who, were it not for sin, might be 
honorable wives and loving mothers. Tonight they 
are being driven, by adverse winds, upon dangerous 
seas where sunken reefs may sink them forever. 
Wilt Thou not help us do or say something that may 
be used to stop some one before it is*too late? 

“Let some song, message of love, or word of 
prayer fall tonight on some heart that has a little 
soil left in it to receive Thy word of truth. 

“God save the men who are contributing to the 
degradation of womankind, and speed the day when 
a public haunt of shame will be a thing of the past. 

“Hear and answer, for Christ's sake, Amen." 

That prayer burned on the heart of the hidden lis¬ 
tener. She rushed to her bed, threw herself across 
it and burst into tears. “Merciful God," she sobbed, 
“Thou didst not create me for this kind of life. Is 
there hope for me?" she groaned. 

Miss Dickson returned about two o'clock and 
found Lucile tumbling, tossing, weeping and groan¬ 
ing. When told about the open-air service she said: 
“It was those workers from Berachah Home. We 
will go out there this afternoon." 


118 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


Three o’clock that afternoon Mae and Lucile 
knocked at the door of the Berachah Home, an in¬ 
stitution for the redemption of erring girls, and 
were invited in by the matron, Miss Singletary. 

“Is the superintendent at home?” asked Miss 
Dickson. 

“No,” replied the matron, “he and his wife left 
this morning to be gone for six weeks.” 

“That’s too bad, I was so anxious to see them. 
Miss Susie, I’ve brought this young lady, Miss Vio¬ 
let Verner, out to see if you can give her a place 
in the home for a while.” 

The matron looked grieved as she replied: “I 
am so sorry, but it will be impossible to take her now, 
we are so crowded, we have been compelled to re¬ 
fuse a dozen girls this month for lack of room. The 
people are not yet awake to the needs and possi¬ 
bilities of this work. That is why the superintend¬ 
ent and his wife are gone, to see if they can secure 
more assistance. They are needed here, but are com¬ 
pelled to be gone much of the time on just such 
missions. It is sad to think there are girls who want 
a chance to make good and no door is open to them.” 

“Can’t you crowd up and make room for her, she 
is so anxious for a chance to make good,” urged 
Miss Dickson. 

“Miss Mae, you know I would be only too glad 
to do so, but we have crowded now until some of 


OUT OF THE DISTRICT 


119 


the girls are sleeping two girls with two babies on 
a three-quarter bed. How I wish I knew what to 
do. This is the hardest part of the work, to refuse 
any girl who wishes to enter the home. Sometimes 
it seems like I will almost die, when I see a girl go 
away from here because we had no room for her. 
Why don’t the people awaken and respond to the call 
of lost girlhood?” exclaimed the matron. 

All she could do was to have prayer with the two 
women. Her prayers seemed to her to be so empty. 
For she read in her Bible: “If a brother or sister 
be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one of 
you say unto them, depart in peace, be ye warmed 
and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those 
things which are needful to the body; what doth it 
profit?” 

Wasn’t this poor girl naked, robbed, spoiled, and 
in need of shelter from the human vultures that 
wanted to devour her soul and body? How could a 
matron pray a prayer of faith under such circum¬ 
stances? She couldn’t, and she didn’t. 

Miss Dickson and Lucile returned to the Mansion, 
disappointed. Lucile threw herself in a chair, 
rocked backward and forward and moaned: 
“There’s simply no chance for me, I’m doomed. 
What’s the use in trying? Every door is shut in 
my face. Why not plunge in and end it all as soon 
as possible? Who cares what becomes of me except 
you and dear old Martha. You can’t put up with 


120 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


me forever. Don’t every one who tries to help me 
get the worst of it? What shall I do, what can I 
do? I haven’t money enough to do anything if I 
should leave here. I paid the mortgage off on Mar¬ 
tha’s home she put there to help me out and I had 
to buy clothes. What’s the use? I’m done for, and 
that’s all there is to it.” Miss Dickson sat quiet. 
She, too, was perplexed. She was getting uneasy 
about Lucile, for she realized the girl was becom¬ 
ing desperate. A desperate girl is liable to do any¬ 
thing. The doorbell rang. Miss Dickson went to 
the door. A gentleman wished to know if there was 
a Miss Verner there. Miss Dickson invited him into 
the parlor. 

“Will you kindly tell me the nature of your busi¬ 
ness?” Miss Dickson asked. 

“I am a lawyer, and have been appointed by the 
State to settle up the affairs of ex-United States 
Marshal Verner of McLennan County, and I find 
that Miss Violet, his daughter, has something com¬ 
ing to her from the estate.” 

“Just excuse me a minute and I will call Miss Vio¬ 
let.” Miss Dickson was gone a few minutes and 
returned with Violet. 

The lawyer arose and introduced himself as Mr. 
Jenkins of Waco. “Miss Verner, I have a photo of 
the daughter of Mr. Verner, and description of iden¬ 
tification marks by which she is to be identified.” 

Drawing a picture from his pocket he extended it 


OUT OF THE DISTRICT 


121 


to her and she told him the name of the photogra¬ 
pher before taking the picture in her hands. 

“There is a striking resemblance between you 
and the picture,” said Mr. Jenkins, and I think there 
will be no trouble in identifying you as the legal 
heir of Mr. Verner. Have you the mark of a straw¬ 
berry on your left arm, just above the elbow, a mark 
barely discernible?” 

“Yes, sir,” replied Violet. She drew her sleeve up 
and revealed the dim outline of a strawberry. 

“One more,” said Mr. Jenkins. “Have you a scar, 
a small scar, under the hair, above and to the rear 
of the right ear?” 

“Yes, sir, right here.” She drew the hair back, 
turned to the light and asked: “Can you see it? 
My brother and I were playing one day, and he acci¬ 
dentally hit me with a rock.” 

Mr. Jenkins stated he was satisfied, and saw noth¬ 
ing in the way to prevent her securing her inherit¬ 
ance at once. “Of course there will be more or less 
legal questions to consider, but I can attend to all 
of that for you.” 

“Have there been any monuments placed at the 
heads of the graves of my parents and brother?” 
asked Violet. “If not I would like that to be done 
first.” 

Her open frankness won favor with Judge Jen¬ 
kins and he wondered how she came to be in the 
District, but asked no questions. 


122 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


“Are you of age, Miss Violet?” asked the lawyer. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Then there will be no trouble in placing some 
thirty thousand dollars in your hands within the 
next few days. The other part of the estate is in¬ 
vested mostly in oil lands in Oklahoma, with one 
■or two producing wells, which will provide you with 
a regular income.” 

“About the monuments at the graves?” asked 
Violet. 

“I beg your pardon, I overlooked answering your 
question. No, just markers are all that have been 
placed yet.” 

“Mr. Jenkins, will you attend to that for me? I 
have been thinking about it so much, and wondered 
how I was to have suitable monuments erected. I 
do not desire to return to Waco, if I can get you 
to attend to that for me I will so much appreciate it.” 

“Certainly,” he replied. 

Violet gave instructions regarding the monu¬ 
ments about which she seemed deeply concerned. 
She requested that a photo of them be sent her. 

Judge Jenkins took his departure, and Violet went 
with Miss Dickson to her room, where they dis¬ 
cussed the good luck that had come to Violet. 

Violet sat thinking for a few minutes, then raised 
her head and asked: “Mae, don’t you suppose I 
.could employ a lawyer who could clear Jo Sally?” 


OUT OF THE DISTRICT 


123 


“No, you can not clear him, but if you wish we 
can get a good lawyer to defend him.” 

“What do you suppose it would cost?” she asked. 

“I think I know one, a good one, we can get for 
five hundred dollars.” 

“Let us get him, I will gladly pay that,” said 
Violet. 

So it came to pass that Jo Sally had able counsel 
that secured a change of venue, but was unable to 
overcome the combine that was pitted against him. 

Miss Dickson and Violet kept the good news to 
themselves. Violet received one thousand dollars, 
but some technicalities delayed the final settlement 
of her inheritance. Weeks passed by, during which 
Jo Sally was tried, convicted and executed. A plain 
marble slab marked his grave, on which was carved: 

“HE DIED FOR ME—VIOLET.” 

Violet and Miss Dickson had discussed future 
plans for Violet, in which Miss Dickson refused to 
take part. Violet pleaded with her to leave the 
District and let them go away together to some dis¬ 
tant place and begin life all over again. 

When Violet received her money she called Mar¬ 
tha into her room and said: “Martha, I have met 
with some good fortune, and am going away from 
here forever. Do you want to go with me?” 

“Miss Vi’let, I loves you, and I’ll go to de ends 
ob de world with you.” 


124 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


Thus it was settled, Violet Verner and her black 
friend, Martha, went from Dallas one night, and 
left no trail behind them with any one, save Mae 
Dickson. 

Both were heavily veiled; their tickets read to 
Denver, Colorado. In the station Violet said quiet¬ 
ly: “When we board this train, Martha, I forever 
shake the dust of this hateful city from my feet, 
and never expect to see it again; I hate it.” 

“Hush, honey, don’t talk like dat.” 

“I don’t ever, Martha. I hate the sight of its 
streets and its buildings, its parks and its churches 
—churches, yes, for whom? For the ‘good’ rich— 
not for the people who need help. Their spires point 
upward. To whom ? Martha, I’ve come to the place 
where I hardly believe there is a God; had there 
been He surely would have taken a hand in my af¬ 
fairs. I don’t say I am entirely guiltless, but I know 
I have not deserved the hours of torture, of agony, 
that have been mine for the past two years or more. 
It is not right. It is not just. Think of the 
days and weeks I have trudged those streets try¬ 
ing to find a way to earn an honest living, and al¬ 
ways I have met with the same reply, ‘We can’t use 
you unless you can furnish good references.’ Did 
they not force me to that vile district? Had it not 
been for you, Martha, I would have been absolutely 
destroyed. As it is, I am a woman marked. A thing 
hunted, for I must flee to some far-away place and 


OUT OF THE DISTRICT 


125 


hide from those I once knew. Indeed, I have noth¬ 
ing to lose. It is all gone. I’ve asked for an honest 
chance. It has been refused me. I intend to rise; 
if I can’t one way, I will another. There is our 
train.” 


CHAPTER TWELVE. 

ENDEAVORING TO RISE. 

Sometimes, I think, the angel Death 
Comes down from realms above. 

And grants to souls unfit for flight 
More time to learn God’s love. 

Sometimes, I think, the pitying tears. 

Like rain on parching sod, 

Bring forth new life from wasted years, 

To bring a soul to God * * * 

V IOLET purposed to purchase a little home 
somewhere in or near Denver, and to devote 
her life to doing good. Mae had told her that if 
a person had money the world would receive him 
or her without question. In thinking the matter 
over she had concluded the best people were mem¬ 
bers of the Church; so she decided to unite with 
some church and do her best to be a blessing to the 
world. With this good resolution she landed in Den¬ 
ver, and for several days remained at the Palace 
Hotel, while looking around for a more suitable 
place, where she and Martha might live during the 
time her own little bungalow was being constructed. 

An attractive lot had been secured right near the 
St. Paul Church and the building was nearing com¬ 
pletion when a Mr. Blanton, a commercial traveler 
who had seen Violet in the Star Mansion several 
times when he visited Dallas, saw and recognized 
her as she was directing the workmen about some 
126 


ENDEAVORING TO RISE 


127 


changes she desired made. He knew he was not 
mistaken, for her every feature was firmly fixed 
in his memory—had he not been repulsed by this 
woman who now thought to set up a home right 
next door to that of his own pure wife and little 
daughter? He could not think of letting such an un¬ 
heard of thing happen; so he immediately called on 
the Judge to seek an injunction to stay further work 
on the building of this Violet Verner. The Judge 
refused to grant any such injunction. Mr. Blanton 
raved. “Sir,” he said, “I am an official in the 
Church, a taxpayer, own my own property, and I 
demand to be protected from the presence of such 
characters as this woman.” 

The Judge smiled. “This woman owns her prop¬ 
erty, too, and will pay taxes on it. I have no au¬ 
thority to grant an injunction to prevent her fin¬ 
ishing her building. I would be glad to accommo¬ 
date you, Mr. Blanton, but can not do so at the ex¬ 
pense of another citizen.” 

“It’s a pretty come to pass when a man has to 
be forced to live by the side of a woman like that, 
and no recourse whatever,” angrily retorted this 
outraged citizen. “You can move,” mildly suggest¬ 
ed the Judge. 

“What would be the use in moving? Some other 
vile character might follow you there, and you could 
not help yourself. No, I shall remain where I am, 


128 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


and make it hot for her if she makes a single mis¬ 
step.” 

“You can do that, all right,” said the Judge. “If 
she tries to operate a questionable resort—then you 
can have her moved to the District.” 

Mr. Blanton, very much agitated, rushed to his 
home and informed his wife that he had just learned 
that the woman next door was a bad character, en¬ 
tirely unfit for companionship, and that she must 
stay away from her, or she would “get in bad.” The 
dirty scoundrel, like other men of his ilk, was afraid 
the woman might recognize and expose him. A mis¬ 
erable, guilty conscience often drives people to un¬ 
reasonable extremes. Had the simpleton taken the 
second thought, he might have known that the wom¬ 
an would never refer to her past life in the pres¬ 
ence of any woman. He was safe, so far as she was 
concerned, but he decided he would be much safer 
with her out of town, or IN THE DISTRICT. Then 
when he met her at the Church door he almost had 
a fit. He could not imagine what brought that 
woman to his Church door. 

The cottage was finally completed and furnished, 
and Violet and Martha moved in to begin life all 
over again. They were both happy and contented 
in this lovely little home, from the front porch of 
which they could look upon the mighty Rockies lift¬ 
ing their snow-covered heads amid the fleecy clouds. 

The Lord’s Day dawned clear and beautiful, with 


ENDEAVORING TO RISE 


129 


just enough crispness in the air to make one long 
for God’s great outdoors, and to walk briskly along 
the attractive streets. Violet had elected to build 
her home within easy walking distance of the St. 
Paul’s Church. She covered the distance in a very 
short time, filled with the buoyancy of her glad new 
experience in leaving the old life behind, and the 
promise of a glad, useful life ahead. Her face was 
aglow and her eyes were sparkling as she entered 
the Church door, near which Mr. Blanton stood to 
usher the congregation to suitable seats. Uncon¬ 
sciously she smiled pleasantly, but was coldly re¬ 
ceived and guided to a pew all to herself. She gave 
this no thought, as the Church was not crowded that 
day. 

This minister was a learned man in the things 
of this world, and knew how to discourse on sub¬ 
jects suitable to the desires of his cultured, refined 
audience, but knew little of the truths so needful 
to guide a hungry, thirsty soul to the pastures green 
and waters still, where a spiritual life and strength 
could be obtained. A person may be joyful, for a 
season, on the thought and plan of some great pur¬ 
pose; but it requires a deep inner work of righteous¬ 
ness to enable one to stand when storms of adver¬ 
sity come. 

The service that morning was so different from 
the life to which Violet had become accustomed, and 
the contrast so striking, she really enjoyed it. Sit- 


130 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


ting in that large auditorium, looking at the beau¬ 
tiful stained glass windows, one of which, in rich 
coloring, portrayed the Christ at Jacob’s Well, talk¬ 
ing to the woman in scarlet, back across the purple 
hills of the long ago. Violet did not know the story; 
therefore, could not comprehend its import, but was 
deeply impressed by it and could scarcely take her 
eyes away. 

Such scenes, such environment, have a tendency 
to cast a sort of meditative spell over one, which 
brings up the past, or produces visions of the future. 
While looking at this wonderful window, the great 
pipe organ began playing softly, plaintively, “Sa¬ 
vior, Pilot Me,” and she was borne out, far out, on 
the realm of mental communion with her own soul. 
By chance, one night, she had heard that Claude 
Clifton was a minister of the Gospel, and now he 
came before her, not as a preacher, but as a light¬ 
hearted, gallant boy, riding a bay pony by her side 
along the country road, winding through the mead¬ 
ows, over the hills, and under the boughs of the ma¬ 
jestic trees, where the mocking birds sang and the 
squirrels scampered to and fro. She lived again the 
glad, happy days of her innocent childhood, the very 
thought of which brought a radiance into her beau¬ 
tiful face. 

The minister’s wife covertly glanced at Violet just 
as her face became radiant, and mentally decided 
there was something noble, something grand in that 


ENDEAVORING TO RISE 


131 


attractive, silent woman dressed in black occupying 
a pew all to herself. “Surely she can not be the 
vile creature which they accuse her of being,” mused 
the minister’s wife, who was a good woman, and 
longed to go to the strange woman and make her 
welcome to St. Paul’s. But how could she, in view 
of the statements made by Mr. Blanton, chairman 
of the official board of the Church. It would ruin 
her husband, and bring disgrace to her family. How 
that poor woman longed to see the Church lay aside 
its “caste” and undertake the real work of the Mas¬ 
ter. 

Violet was recalled from the past as the minis¬ 
ter arose to speak, but her thoughts turned to 
Claude. “I wonder what kind of a minister he is?” 
she thought. “What does he look like, now that he 
is a man? I would like to hear him preach. How 
I wish I could help him in his work. With his help, 
I know I could live a good, useful life for his influ¬ 
ence was good, even as a boy. But what’s the use of 
thinking about it? Such a thing could never be. 
He has long since forgotten me.” With a sigh she 
came back to herself, and reproved herself severely 
for allowing her thoughts to stray away from the 
sermon. 

“How wicked I am,” she thought. When the 
service was concluded, she arose and passed out, ig¬ 
nored by all. 

What a beautiful day it was, how bright the sun 


132 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


God caused to shine on the good and evil alike. 
In the sky a few fleecy clouds were floating high 
above the distant snow-capped mountains. On her 
way home Violet seemed to ride upon the wings of 
the wind, for her heart was made glad through en¬ 
nobling meditations. 

That evening Violet and Martha sat by the open 
fire talking. “Martha,” said Violet, “can’t you recall 
any :of the facts concerning the people who took my 
baby, that might enable me to find some trace of 
him?” This question had been asked probably a 
thousand times, and she always received the same 
reply: 

“Lawd bless yo’ pretty heart, honey, dis ole nig- 
gah has done gone and racked her brain ober and 
ober agin, tryin’ to remember whar dat genTman 
tole me he was goin’ wid our preshus pet; but it ain’t 
no use. Dem wuz dark days, wid so much sorrow 
I’ve plumb forgot.” 

Violet knew what the answer would be, and was 
looking in the fire with a far-away expression in 
her dark-blue eyes as the deep tones of Martha’s 
anxious voice fell on her ears. She knew how de¬ 
voted this black mammy was to her sweet baby. A 
sad smile played about her lips as she said: 

“Martha, I suppose he is quite a fine boy by now, 
and we would not know him if we were to find him. 
I can remember him only as a romping, kicking baby 
boy, with laughing blue eyes that seemed to talk 


ENDEAVORING TO RISE 


133 


to me, and his soft brown curls, that clung to my 
fingers as I caressed him. How I wish I could clasp 
him in my arms once more.” 

Martha knew not what to say, so she simply an¬ 
swered, “Yessum,” and they two sat for a long time 
looking into the fire. After a time Violet looked 
up and said, “Martha, did you know that I have a 
Bible?” 

“Mo, honey, I ain’t neber seed it.” 

“Go to my room and look in the little leather 
trunk, down at the bottom, in the back, left-hand 
corner and get it for me.” 

Martha soon returned, bringing the little cloth- 
bound Bible, which she gave to her mistress. Violet 
held it in her clasped hands for a moment, then hold¬ 
ing it up said: “This little book has a history. It 
came to me in my thoughtless, innocent childhood. 
How well do I remember the night when we were 
going to have a dance, and some one persuaded us 
to go to ‘preaching’ down at the old school house, 
where a Baptist preacher was holding a meeting. 
Claude and I went, and at the conclusion of the serv¬ 
ice the minister gave each of us a Bible. Claude 
laughingly said he thought he would learn to read 
it, as he put his copy in his pocket. I took this little 
book home and put it away as a keepsake.” 

Opening the book a tintype picture of two children 
fell in her lap. They were Claude and herself, taken 
by a traveling photographer one day at a picnic. It 
was a tintype of two children. Claude was 17 and 


134 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


she, Violet, was just 14. Claude had scratched the 
date on the back—July 4,1892. 

Sitting there on the footstool, holding the little 
tintype, with the firelight playing on her lovely fea¬ 
tures, and dancing on her loosened curls, she became 
a girl once more. All the horrors of the past were 
forgotten in the bright memories of childhood’s 
glad, care-free days. What a picture she would have 
made for an artist’s brush! 

How well she remembered the little schoolhouse 
near the gushing spring, and the grapevines cling¬ 
ing to the hackberry bushes! The boys climbed the 
trees to gather the little winter grapes, and Claude 
always secured the largest, fullest bunches for her. 
Dear Claude, how she wished she could be with him, 
as in those happy days of yore. 

Turning from the picture, with its hallowed mem¬ 
ories, to the Bible, which she had laid face down, 
she opened it where the picture had rested so long 
and read the story of Christ and the woman at Ja¬ 
cob’s well. 

“Why, Martha, this is a description of that won¬ 
derful window at the Church; I never knew it was 
in the Bible.” From that hour she became inter¬ 
ested in the teachings of the Bible, but looked upon 
it as a purely historical collection :of writings. If 
she had had some one to lead her to Christ, and un¬ 
fold the spiritual truths to her receptive heart, how 
different would have been the remainder of her life. 


CHAPTER THIRTEEN. 

IN THE HEART OF THE ROCKIES. 

The broad, blue mountains lift their brows 
Barely to bathe them in the blaze; 

The bobolinks from silence rouse 

And flash along melodious ways! 

—Spofford. 



l IIE great silent mountains appealed to Violet 


A as a place where she could forget and be for¬ 
gotten. She had never been close to the mighty 
Rockies, but as she sat looking at the distant range 
one evening she felt those majestic snow-covered 
peaks were calling her. Summoning Martha she 
said: “Prepare a lunch for tomorrow, and we will 
go to the mountains for the day. I think the George¬ 
town Loop will be a good trip to make.” 

“Yessum, dem mountains looks like dey ain’t fur. 
We could walk out dar.” Violet laughed. “It would 
be quite a walk, Martha, for a gentleman at the 
real estate office told me the other day that it was 
forty miles to the nearest peak.” 

“Law sakes alive, dat doan seem ’tall possible,” 
said Martha. 

The Georgetown trip was the beginning :of her 
mountain experiences, which resulted in the pur¬ 
chase of a rifle, fishing tackle, hunting clothes and 
a camping outfit. Days at a time were spent in 
those great solemn mountains. During her explora¬ 
tions she went to Corona, the highest broad-gauge 


136 


136 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


railway station in the world, from whence she 
climbed to a lofty peak and, with glass in hand, 
swept the glorious range, which extended as far 
as the eye could reach—with mountains piled on 
top of mountains. Her soul was awed by the gran¬ 
deur of God’s handiwork, and she wondered where 
He secured the materials with which to build the 
cathedrals of those vast solitudes. Gray, brown, red 
granite, with black marble, patches of white snow, 
down to the green trees, on to Yankee-Doodle Lake, 
lying below the timber belt like a turquoise setting, 
and in the purple haze of that gorgeous coloring re¬ 
flecting the deep blue of the sky. Who could stand 
thus and doubt the reality of God, even though un¬ 
able to comprehend Him? 

A descent of over two thousand feet brought them 
tired and hungry to the edge of Yankee Doodle Lake, 
and Martha built a fire while Violet induced some 
game fish to leave their watery dwelling for a place 
in the frying pan. Never did two persons enjoy a 
meal more than did those mountain climbers. 

Other tours carried them to Estes Park, and down 
through the Cheyenne Canyons, the Cave of the 
Winds, over the Ute Pass, back through the Garden 
of the Gods, where strange and curious formations 
in the red sandstone represented almost everything 
imaginable; the Cliff Dwellers’ Canyon, present¬ 
ing the ancient houses of an extinct and forgotten 
people; a trip to the Summit House on Pike’s Peak 


IN THE HEART OF THE ROCKIES 


137 


and a climb to the brow of Cuttler Mountain, from 
which the silver waters of the Seven Falls could be 
seen across Cheyenne Canyon, near the grave of 
Helen Hunt Jackson, while stretching away to the 
East was a vast expanse of lake-dotted plains, em¬ 
bellished with dark green groves, surrounding hand¬ 
some country homes. During their rambles Violet 
picked up many legends of the hills and entrancing 
stories of human conflicts with the elements, and 
with the fierce wild animals of the mountains. 

A trip to Cripple Creek, over the Shore Line, 
through scenery which “bankrupts the English lan¬ 
guage,” was one never to be forgotten. On the 
backs of burros they approached the Seven Falls, 
and climbed to the top, which all but exhausted Mar¬ 
tha, who, panting for breath, exclaimed: “Missus 
Vi’let, you’s a reglar goat for climbin’. Dese heah 
steps done gone and got de best ob me.” 

Violet gave a hearty laugh and said, “Martha, you 
mustn’t give out on me, for you are my sole de- 
pendance—and only friend.” 

“Mis’ Vi’let, you knows I’s not gwine to gib out 
on you, but I is done clean gone lost my breaf, and 
am gwine to sot right down heah till I ’covers it.” 
With this she cast herself upon the ground while 
Violet, with a silvery peal of laughter that strange¬ 
ly mingled with the gurgling of the waters, strolled 
away to inspect the hundreds of names on rocks, 
bushes and on the ground, left by those who had 


138 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


come and gone. Tiring of this, she wandered away 
to where a flat rock lay beneath the boughs of a 
mountain bush and amused herself casting pebbles 
into the rippling waters. While reaching for a peb¬ 
ble her eyes chanced to fall upon a smooth stone, 
upon which were carved the names “Claude Clifton 
and Roger Mills, en route to the Philippine Islands.” 
The date showed they were at that very spot one 
week before, but were many miles away probably 
by this time. 

Why was he so near and yet so far, and why had 
she missed him? “If I could just see and talk with 
him, I know he would understand, and I know he 
could and would help me,” she mused. 

Violet’s heart was hungry for human fellowship, 
the touch :of a loving hand. Had she but known 
that Claude’s thoughts were of her and of the hap¬ 
py days they had spent together in the long ago, as 
he sat on that very spot watching Roger carve their 
names on the rock, her heart would have leaped for 
joy. She would have liked to carry the rock home 
with her, had it been possible. 

“Roger Mills,” she mused, “I have not thought of 
him for years. He was once a dear friend of my 
brother, Will. The last I heard from him, he was 
a cowboy in the far West. I wonder how he and 
Claude came to be together, and why they are going 
to the Philippine Islands?” Pondering thus, she be¬ 
came oblivious to time or surroundings until recalled 


IN THE HEAET OF THE ROCKIES 


139 


by the voice of Martha, saying: “Lan sakes, honey, 
what you thinkin’ ’bout? Did you know de sun is 
nearly sot and its gwine be most dark befo’ we gits 
to de cottage? I specks dem donkeys thinks we 
done gone an’ forgot ’em. Le’s go.” 

Retracing their steps to the burros, they mounted 
the docile, patient little animals and rode to the 
entrance of the canyon. There they took a car for 
Colorado Springs, where they ate supper before re¬ 
turning to the little rented cottage. The next day 
they packed their belongings and returned to Den¬ 
ver. Violet’s longing for some active part in the 
works that were being done for the betterment of 
mankind had been renewed by the influence of the 
carved names and the thoughts they evoked. 

A few days later she called on the pastor of St. 
Paul’s Church to see if he could direct her into some 
good work. 

This reverend doctor of divinity, whose right to 
that title had never been questioned, and whose 
parishioners boasted he was the most dignified and 
learned of any in the city, had noticed and secretly 
admired this lovely woman who always sat alone, 
save when attended by her faithful servant. The 
wistful longing for a touch of that “power” that 
could make people “good” had so infused Violet’s 
attentive attitude that he felt the glow of a pardon¬ 
able pride in the impression his carefully prepared 


140 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


sermons had upon this mysterious stranger of his 
church, about whose past strange rumors were 
afloat, but whose present seemed to be above sus¬ 
picion or reproach. 

When Violet suddenly appeared at the study door 
early one morning, the minister’s first thought was 
of self-protection. He hoped no one had seen her 
enter. Without a suspicion that he could miscon¬ 
strue her mission, she asked this minister of the 
Gospel of our Lord to direct her in some good work 
that would give her hands, mind and heart some 
outlet for the pent-up longing for higher, better 
things. A few days before this unexpected call he 
had attended one of the Ladies’ Societies and had 
heard some very unkind, unfavorable criticism of 
even permitting this Scarlet Woman to attend their 
Church regularly, as this one had been doing. He 
knew any attempt to have her enter this, the most 
pitiless body of women on earth—the Church So¬ 
cieties—would not only embarrass himself, but hu¬ 
miliate her; and deep down in his heart, he felt she 
did not deserve that. 

Not having studied the needs of humanity out¬ 
side the carefully outlined program of his church 
and its organizations, he was wholly unprepared to 
advise where she might find something to do. Oh, 
yes, his church had plenty to do, but she might not 
enter in for did she not carry the scarlet brand, and 


IN THE HEART OF THE ROCKIES 


141 


who would allow her entrance in their midst? This 
doctor of divinity made several futile efforts to di¬ 
rect her interest, but she saw and understood his 
evident embarrassment, and went away a wiser but 
sadder woman. 


CHAPTER FOURTEEN. 

THE LECTURE. 


I N THE Denver Post some days later appeared an 
announcement of a special service to be held in 
St. Paul’s under direction of Rev. William H. Lee, 
superintendent of the People’s Mission and the 
Rocky Mountain Rescue League. A speaker and 
some singers from Texas would take part in the 
service. Violet and Martha attended. Part of this 
special singing was by two redeemed girls, which 
met with unusual applause from the audience. The 
speaker of the evening, being introduced, announced 
his subject: “Riding the Rapids in a Struggle to Be 
Pure Again.” 

There was something about him that reminded 
Violet of some one she had met somewhere, but for 
her life she could not recall where, when, or under 
what circumstances. 

He spoke rapidly and with great earnestness. 
“As a preface to my address,” he announced, “I 
wish to read a few selections from the Bible. First, 
we find in Joel 3:3, ‘And they have cast lots for my 
people, have given a boy for a harlot and sold a 
girl for wine that they might drink.’ Next we read 
in Isaiah 42:22 ‘But this is a people robbed and 
spoiled, they are all of them snared in holes; they 
are hid in prison houses; they are for a prey, and 
none delivereth; for a spoil and none saith restore.’ 


142 


THE LECTURE 


143 


Next we read in Jeremiah 18:30, ‘I will restore health 
unto thee and will heal thee of thy wounds because 
they have called thee an outcast, saith the Lord.’ 
Finally, in John 8:4, we read the wonderful words 
of the Christ, ‘Neither do I condemn thee; go and 
sin no more.’ 

“First: I wish to declare that because of our 
present Social System and double standard of 
morals, multiplied thousands of innocent girls are 
sacrificed annually on the white slave blocks of 
Christian America. Other multiplied thousands are 
led astray by false lovers and basely deserted, then 
forced by our same Social System to commit suicide 
or enter the public haunts of shame, which may be 
branded as ‘America’s Dens of Horror’ that 
stretched from ocean to ocean and from the Great 
Lakes to the Gulf. 

“Of this latter class are born each year more than 
one hundred thousand babies; worse than orphans 
because they have the acts of their cowardly fathers 
to answer for. 

“Second: I wish to charge both Society and the 
Church with much blundering ignorance and crim¬ 
inal neglect in dealing with the betrayed, outcast 
girls of this country. Pray tell me why, and by what 
authority, Society takes two sinners, sends one to 
perdition and the other to Congress, to make laws 
for honest people?” 

Violet wanted to clap her hands in applause but 


144 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


dared not. She did lean slightly forward and nod 
approval. The speaker caught the nod and glanced 
for a moment at the bright face of the pretty woman 
clothed in black sitting in a pew with a colored 
woman. Was there something about her, the atten¬ 
tion she gave or the expression of her face, or was 
it spiritual discernment, that caused him to have a 
sympathetic understanding? She felt that he knew 
all about her heart throbs and soul agonies, and, in 
knowing, extended the pure, ennobling sympathy she 
so craved. 

The speaker continued: “Without wishing to be 
misunderstood and in the fairest spirit possible, I 
give it as my candid opinion that the Church, in 
some way, has lost the trail of the Christ. He for¬ 
gave the outcast woman and sent her forth to begin 
life anew. Not only forgave her, but commissioned 
her to be the first person to bear the priceless mes¬ 
sage of His resurrection from the dead; while the 
Church of today, not with literal rocks, but with 
those just as effectual, continues to stone her to 
death. 

“My experience teaches me there are thousands 
of unfortunate girls and women who would be glad 
to recover their place in life, if we, as Christian 
people, had the Spirit of the Christ to help them; 
but I fear we are too much absorbed in the light 
frivolities of our giddy rounds of pleasure to give 
the subject very serious thought. My observation 


THE LECTURE 


145 


is that we dash the subject off by declaring the out¬ 
cast has always been and will always be, and that 
ends it with us. 

"If we would stop to consider, for just a moment, 
we might realize we have been working at the wrong 
end of the Social Problem and in the wrong way to 
accomplish a permanent cure. We have split our 
throats and have ‘busted our galluses’ trying to 
reach the poor, silly, fool boy who is wild and way¬ 
ward and I am one of the geese that pleads guilty. 
But when I awoke to the powerful influence of 
ruined girlhood, and found that the majority of way¬ 
ward girls each have a long string of boys, bound 
with ‘cart ropes’, leading them to ruin, I realized to 
save a girl meant to protect a number of boys, hence 
I began to do what I could for the girl; but it is 
uphill work because the Church and Society are not 
awake and we have to do our work with but little 
cooperation and against almost unsurmountable dif¬ 
ficulties. However, we are positive the effort pays 
and will count some day. I beg your pardon for 
diverging; back to the subject! 

“Taking it for granted you have abundance :of 
information from the magazines and daily papers 
regarding the way girls are bought and sold in the 
shambles of shame, and that your observations have 
convinced you there is a social problem for solution, 
I shall more particularly confine myself to my sub¬ 
ject of ‘Riding the Rapids.’ 


146 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


“Without fear of being successfully contradicted, 
I declare there is not more than one chance in a 
hundred for a girl to recover who has gone astray, 
and that one chance is furnished her by such men 
and agencies as my friend, Lee, here and his little 
Hope Cottage at Pueblo. If all the outcast girls in 
America should seek a way out of sin, a way up 
from the depths, at one time, and all the institutions 
being operated for their restoration should be 
crowded to their utmost capacity attempting to 
shelter these girls, there would be only one out of 
every two hundred and fifty able to find a place to 
spend the night. You will please bear in mind I 
speak now of those living lives of immorality and 
do not include the thousands of betrayed girls who 
will, or who have already become unmarried 
mothers. 

“In view of these facts may I ask you where is 
our interest in the outcast? You may reply that 
there are thousands upon thousands of good people 
who would gladly open their private homes to give 
these girls a chance. You may be right about that, 
but I doubt it very seriously, because I have had 
some opportunity to give that proposition a test. I 
will cite one incident. On one occasion I was ad¬ 
dressing an audience of some five hundred as fine 
Christian gentlemen as you will find in any com¬ 
munity, and I put this question to them. I said: 
‘Gentlemen, if there should come to your home some 


THE LECTURE 


147 


evening a young girl, and you could know she was 
soon to become a mother, how many of you have the 
ability and courage to give such a one shelter and 
help her back to mother and home? Please stand 
up.’ There was just one man arose to his feet. So 
there was one home, out of several hundred, open to 
the outcast girl in that town. 

“Considering these facts, you will undoubtedly 
agree with me that when a girl is robbed of her vir¬ 
tue, she will have a most difficult road to travel 
in retracing her steps. Each and every one of them 
is forced behind the scarlet mask. 

“Some years ago I stood, one day, on the banks of 
the Niagara River opposite the famous Whirlpool 
Rapids. A guide standing by my side told me the 
water was fully fifty feet deep at that point and 
those mad waters were one of the phenomena of 
the falls. ‘No boat has been able to survive a trip 
through those rapids except the Maid of the Mist, 
which went through one time,’ said my guide. ‘Some 
years ago,’ he continued, ‘a Captain Webb, from 
Europe, attempted to swim the Rapids in the pres¬ 
ence of thousands of spectators. He made a splendid 
effort, but the turbulent water tore off the top of his 
head and his body was never recovered.’ 

“Years after hearing of Captain Webb’s unsuc¬ 
cessful attempt to swim the Whirlpool Rapids I was 
kneeling in a church down in Texas, before deliver¬ 
ing an address. As I knelt there a picture came to 


148 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


my mind of the tens of thousands of girls endeavor¬ 
ing to ride the rapids back to honorable lives, hence 
this subject. 

“One night I was delivering a gospel message in 
a Southern city and there came into the audience 
an attractive young girl about seventeen years of 
age in company with her widowed mother. At the 
conclusion of my message an invitation was given 
for those who desired to dedicate their lives to God 
to come forward for prayer and instruction. This 
young lady arose to come, but her mother placed a 
restraining hand on her and she sank back in her 
seat. In that very service was a handsome young 
man, who boasted he had worked the ruin of more 
than twenty girls. He obtained permission to see 
that girl home that night and continued in her com¬ 
pany until her utter ruin was accomplished. I was 
requested to search for her in the slums. About mid¬ 
night I discovered her in a large parlor house, but 
before I could gain admission they spirited her away 
and I never saw her again until she was an aban¬ 
doned public character. 

“One day I received a note to call at a certain 
number in a respectable part of the city. In com¬ 
pany with a Christian friend, I found this girl heart¬ 
broken and discouraged. She told me she had 
walked blisters on her feet searching for honorable 
employment and the only one she found was a posi¬ 
tion as chamber maid in a hotel, owned by a promi- 


THE LECTURE 


149 


nent church man, but she told him of her misfortune, 
because she knew others would if she didn’t. He 
refused to give her work. 

"Looking me in the face, she said: 'What am 
I to do?’ 

"At that time I was devoting my entire life to the 
rescue work for girls, but was working without 
salary or financial backing so had absolutely nothing 
to offer her but good advice, which I gave freely and 
urged her to die of starvation rather than live an 
immoral life. We knelt in prayer and I left her in 
tears. Later she was forced by police officers back 
into the 'Reservation’ or 'District of Death’ and 
shortly afterwards committed suicide in one of the 
most notorious parlor houses in the 'District.’ I 
assisted in her funeral and realized one more unfor¬ 
tunate girl had failed to ride the rapids and had gone 
down to death while her betrayer was a respected 
business man. 

"To prevent you concluding this girl was a weak- 
minded immoral character, I will relate a more noted 
case, that of Ollie Roberts, the Queen of the Bad 
Lands. 

"Ollie was a pretty, dark-eyed girl with lovely 
brown curls. Her beauty was her misfortune, for 
it led to her ruin in her early teens. Just at the 
time when girls awaken to the working of inward 
emotions which make them easily influenced, Ollie 
fell. 


150 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


“This young fellow, following the custom of his 
class, betrayed Ollie into the power of others and 
through threats of exposure, she became a public 
character ere she was eighteen years of age. A life 
of immorality was so repulsive to her that she 
determined to break away from it and be good. 

“One day while seated in her room, lost in deep 
meditation, she decided she was through with her 
wayward life. One often realizes it is much easier 
to resolve than it is to put the resolution into 
execution. She lifted her head, straightened up, 
shook her curls back over her shoulders and said, 
with deep determination: T don’t want to be bad 
and I’m not going to be bad.’ With this she dressed 
and went in search of employment, which she found 
in a position as clerk at a ribbon counter in a large 
department store. Everything went well, and she 
was contented, though drawing small pay, for she 
had the consciousness that her little envelope held 
honest money. 

“One day the inhuman thing, calling himself a 
man, found her and promptly notified the depart¬ 
ment manager of her past, which resulted in her 
receiving a little pay envelope with the statement, 
‘Your services are not needed any longer.’ She 
endeavored to learn why, but was given no satis¬ 
faction. She bit her lip and bravely fought back the 
tears that would come in spite of all she could do. 

“Another position was obtained with like results, 


THE LECTURE 


151 


but she was brave and determined not to give up. If 
she could only learn the cause of her dismissals 
there might be some hope of a remedy, but each 
manager acknowledged she gave perfect satisfaction 
as a clerk but refused to give any letter of recom¬ 
mendation. She was being attacked by the meanest 
and most deadly of enemies—the one that strikes in 
the dark. There is no way to dodge the bullet of an 
assassin. The third position was obtained and the 
third time she was dismissed, then her courage 
failed. She went to her room, sank into a chair, 
dropped her head in her hands, fought the battle out 
—and lost. She said: ‘I want to be good but they 
won’t let me be good, I’m going to be bad; I’m going 
to be the worst woman this State has ever known.’ 

“With that she went on the streets of St. Louis 
with a smile on her face and men, big men, suc¬ 
cumbed to the smile which resulted in diamonds, 
ostrich feathers, fine clothes, handsome apartments, 
a lovely carriage drawn by prancing horses that 
claimed the admiration :of those who saw them. 
There was a haughty bearing and a reckless dash 
that gained her the title of the Queen of the Bad 
Lands. 

“Her cards were played coolly, desperately, for 
large stakes, and she won. 

“The panel game, a daring game of robbery, was 
instituted and hundreds of thousands of dollars were 
filched from the frequenters of her palace of vice. 


152 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


The police reaped a golden harvest from this bold, 
bad woman; but were always forced to give a receipt 
for every dollar she paid them for protection. 

“A young man of character was elected State’s 
Attorney with the pledge he would go after the 
boodlers. A terrific fight followed and I feared he 
would be assassinated, but he won out. 

“One day Ollie Roberts shot and killed a man for 
which she received ten years in the State peni¬ 
tentiary. 

“The State’s Attorney was elected Governor of the 
State. In his mail one evening was a letter in a 
woman’s handwriting and postmarked, State pen¬ 
itentiary. It was from Ollie Roberts, requesting 
permission to make a confession substantiated with 
written evidence. The great dailies in Kansas City 
and St. Louis came out with flaring headlines an¬ 
nouncing Ollie Roberts was going to make a con¬ 
fession to Governor Folk. Her picture was on the 
front page. Three police officials, high-ups, com¬ 
mitted suicide rather than face her confession; they 
were guilty and knew she had the evidence on them. 
Governor Folk pardoned Ollie Roberts and I went to 
see if I could help her to a better life, but it was too 
late. She died an outcast. 

“How much human suffering could have been 
avoided and how much blood, money and morals 
could have been saved had some one given Ollie 
Roberts a little friendly aid when she was struggling 


THE LECTURE 


153 


to be good. Surely this is ‘a people robbed and 
spoiled; they are all :of them hid in prison houses; 
they are for a prey and none delivereth; for a spoil 
and none saith restore.’ 

“In the midst of the blackened ruins, of broken 
hearts, blighted lives, shattered ideals and blasted 
characters in the Desert of Death, a Light shines, 
dimly, ’tis true, but nevertheless, it shines and will 
shine until the darkness is banished and crime, sin, 
sorrow and suffering, like gaunt phantoms, shall 
flee away and give place to peace, joy, and gladness 
of a better, brighter day. For God has said: ‘I will 
restore health unto thee and will heal thee of thy 
wounds because they have called thee an outcast.’ 
And the Christ said: ‘I came to seek and to save that 
which is lost.’ And again He said: ‘What man of 
you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, 
doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, 
and go after that which is lost, until he find it?”’ 

The speaker paused a moment, looked over the 
audience and asked: 

“Where IS the Christ?” 

Then in a voice more subdued and tender, he said: 
“As the sun planted the goodnight kiss on the brow 
of the mountain, causing the shadows to chase each 
other into deeper gloom in the valley below, a man 
came out of the shadow and entered the darkness of 
the night. His face was honest and his heart was 
brave and true. To him was committed the most 


154 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


important mission in the history of the world. He 
was now on his way in the discharge of a duty that 
flung a dishonorable question mark against him be¬ 
fore his fellow men. But with undaunted courage, 
and a profound conviction in the righteousness of his 
cause he marched forward. 

“His garments were worn and dust covered, his 
hands were horny with honest toil and his pockets 
were empty of the world’s gold, but his soul clean as 
he trudged along, the sole defender and protector 
of a maiden seated upon the back of a burro, he was 
leading along the mountain trail into the darkness 
of the night. 

“The maiden had relatives in the village just 
ahead, but they were not wanted there, and the hotel 
was crowded, so this stranger wended his weary way 
to the camp yard where he found a place in a cave 
to spend the night. 

“A short distance in the country some toilers 
rested on the green, grassy hillside as they looked at 
the gleaming stars and discussed the current topics 
of the time. In frightened amazement they beheld 
a finger of light leap out from the heavens and beam 
steadily upon them while a voice of wondrous 
sweetness spoke: ‘Fear not; for behold, I bring you 
good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. 
For unto you is born this day in the city of David, 
a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall 


THE LECTURE 


155 


be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped 
in swaddling clothes lying in a manger.’ 

“And the shepherds hastened to Bethlehem where 
they found Mary and Joseph, and the babe lying in a 
manger. As those shepherds stood looking at that 
Infant, they little dreamed that locked up in that 
tiny body was the Light of the World, the Hope of 
Humanity. 

“There in that manger lay the salvation of the lost 
and the hope of every outcast girl in all the world; 
a light, a tiny light, lit in Galilee, that grows 
stronger as the years go by.” The speaker paused 
as a song, low, sweet, and joyful, burst forth: 

“There’s a light lit up in Galilee, 

Galilee, sweet Galilee 
There’s a light lit up in Galilee, 

And it shines for you and me.” 

Then continuing, he said: 

“ ‘I will heal thee of thy wounds, saith the Lord.’ 

“It was Christmas Eve and the earth was wrapped 
in a mantle of snow, while the cold wind sighed 
through the leafless boughs of the frozen trees and 
moaned about the eaves of a farm house. The 
farmer finished his evening chores, kicked the snow 
from his heavy boots, opened the door and passed 
into a large living-room, where, in an old-fashioned 
open fireplace, brightly burned a fire. 

“Drawing a chair he seated himself opposite to 
his wife. She had been knitting, but the needles 


156 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


had dropped in her lap, and, with a strange far¬ 
away look in her eyes, she gazed into the fire. 

“The old farmer soon was lost in deep reverie. 
His wife looking up said: ‘Pappy, do you know it's 
anniversary night?’ 

“He gave her no answer. 

“The old watch-dog, lying upon a rug near the 
fire, arose, stretched himself, then came and put his 
shaggy head on his master’s knee, but the old man 
rudely brushed him aside. He did not want anything 
to remind him of one who had gone astray. 

“Long the old couple sat thus in silent meditation, 
then he reached for the well-worn Bible, read a 
chapter, and they knelt in earnest prayer. He did 
not forget the absent one, as he poured out his heart 
to God, but said: T beseech Thee, 0 God, to hear us 
in behalf of our darling child who may be somewhere 
out in the cold of this wintry night. Thou, who dost 
temper the breeze to the shorn lamb, wilt Thou not 
have pity on our baby girl and guide her into a place 
of safety and, if it please Thee, bring her back home?’ 

“The prayer ended, the couple arose, covered the 
fire, went upstairs, retired and the night stole on.” 

“Where is my wandering girl tonight, 

The child of my tenderest care? 

Oh, where is my girl tonight? 

My heart overflows 
For I love her she knows, 

Oh, where is my girl tonight?” 


THE LECTURE 


157 


softly came a song. Plaintive, sorrowful, yearning 
was the voice of the singer. 

The speaker ceased as the song rose and was borne 
out to the audience. 

Then he began again. 


CHAPTER FIFTEEN. 
WILD MADGE OF THE STREET. 


UTT WAS Christmas Eve night in the city and 

A the corner lamps sent flickering lights across 
the snow covered street, while the wind moaned 
about the tall buildings. 

“Down one of the boulevards men had erected a 
magnificent structure in honor of the Christ, and 
tonight the soft light shone through the stained 
glass windows and fell with a mellow glow on the 
snow covered sidewalk. Within all was bright and 
beautiful with Christmas decorations. Soon the 
merry jingle of the sleigh bells rang out on the 
frosty air as the proud worshippers gathered, passed 
up the broad granite steps and walked down car¬ 
peted aisles amid flashing jewels and rustling silks 
to their paid pews. 

“The great organ pealed forth a voluntary that 
filled the auditorium, was caught on the wings of 
the wind and borne out on the night as a tired 
Wanderer of the street, with tattered garments 
drawn close about a shivering form, came stagger¬ 
ing along. 

“Pausing under the window where the soft light 
fell she listened to the music that carried her back 
across the years to her childhood. She endeavored 
to pick up the broken thread of life as she steadied 
herself on the frozen pavement. It was Christmas 

158 


WILD MADGE OF THE STREET 


159 


Eve, why not commemorate it by going to church. 
She staggered up the broad steps, passed through 
the door that swung on noiseless hinges, shuffled to 
a seat in the back of the building and dropped, rags 
and all, into a polished, cushioned pew. A paid choir 
gave some kind of a Christmas performance, then a 
quartette sang: 

‘Take my life and let it be. 

Consecrated, Lord to Thee; 

Take my love, my Lord, I pour 
At Thy feet its treasure store.’ 

“The minister read from Isaiah, the fifty-third 
chapter: 

“ ‘Who hath believed our report ? and to whom is the 
arm of the Lord revealed ?’ 

“ ‘For He shall grow up before him as a tender plant, 
and as a root out of dry ground; He hath no form nor 
comeliness; and when we shall see Him, there is no 
beauty that we should desire Him.’ 

“ ‘He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sor¬ 
row, and acquainted with grief; and we hid as it were 
our faces from Him; He was despised and we esteemed 
Him not.’ 

“ ‘Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our 
sorrows, yet we did esteem Him stricken, smitten of 
God, and afflicted.’ 

“ ‘But He was wounded for our transgressions, He 
was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our 
peace was upon Him; and with His stripes we are 
healed.’ 

“ ‘All we, like sheep, have gone astray; we have 
turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath 
laid on Him the iniquity of us all.’ 


160 BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 

“The offertory was followed by a short prayer, 
then a twenty-minute sermonette, and another 
song and prayer concluded the special services. The 
benediction was pronounced and the worshippers 
marched up the carpeted aisles, drew their costly 
garments about them, shied around the Wild Wan¬ 
derer, passed on and passed out. Jingling sleigh 
bells told of their departure to their palatial homes. 

“The minister, a kind hearted man, picked up his 
Bible, walked up the aisle and was about to pass 
the Wild Wanderer, when she looked up and said: 

“ Tie was wounded for our transgressions. He was 
bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace 
was upon Him and with His stripes we are healed/ does 
that mean me?’ 

“This man knew how to speak to a cultured, re¬ 
fined audience, but knew not how to guide a ship¬ 
wrecked soul into the haven of rest, so he spoke a 
few words as he passed on—and he passed out. 

“The Wild Wanderer sat there with her head in 
her hands until the janitor touched her shoulder and 
said: 'Beg your pardon, I must close up and will have 
to ask you to kindly leave/ She turned her pinched, 
suffering face to him and said: 

“ 'He was wounded for our transgressions, He was 
bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace 
was upon Him and with His stripes we are healed/ does 
that mean me?' 


WILD MADGE OF THE STREET 


161 


“That janitor knew how to sweep floors, build 
fires, dust furniture and ventilate the building, but 
was unable to give comfort to a blighted life. T, I 
don’t know what you mean’, he muttered, ‘but will 
have to ask you kindly to be going.’ 

“With this the Wild Wanderer arose, drew her 
thin garments about her wasted form, staggered to 
her feet, and out through the doors that swung on 
noiseless hinges into the cold night. Pausing a 
moment on the sidewalk as the biting wind whipped 
her garments to and fro, she looked, first one way 
then another, and staggered along the cold pave¬ 
ment until her foot chanced to press a loose piece 
of ice which caused her to fall full length in the 
frozen snow. The wind sighed above her prostrate 
form, and the night stole on.” 

The speaker’s wife arose and sang softly and with 
great feeling: 

“On a cold and dreary pavement 
Lies a woman poorly dressed; 

Not a friend on earth is left her 

Save the rags upon her breast.” 

As the singer ceased all eyes were in tears and 
the speaker proceeded: 

“A muffled footfall was heard as a burly officer 
came with measured tread along his beat. As the 
cold wind whistled by him he drew his great coat 
closer and muttered about the night being so dis¬ 
agreeable for one to be :out. Passing by the great 


162 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


church he glanced at its silent, somber walls and 
passed on. ‘Hello, what’s this?’ he said, as he bent 
over the prostrate form of the Wild Wanderer. 
‘Why, it’s old Madge of the street! Madge, are you 
hurt? Let me help you up,’ spoke the kind-hearted 
officer. Bending low he heard her murmur: 

“ ‘He was wounded for our transgressions, He was 
bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was 
upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed;’ does that 
mean me?” 

“‘Why Madge, I don’t understand,’ as he helped 
her to her feet, ‘had I better order the ambulance 
and send you to the hospital?’ he asked. 

“‘No, no thanks,’ she said, as a strange desire 
came into her soul. ‘I think I can go now,’ and with 
bowed head and bent form she pressed her way 
along the cold, deserted street until she reached the 
outskirts of the city. Still on and on she moved, by 
some strange, supernatural power that seemed to 
be given her. Halting at a gate, she steadied herself 
as she looked upon the snow covered walk and yard 
to a great tree from the limb of which hung a swing 
and beyond which was a house. As she stood there 
she remembered the happy days gone by when she 
played on the grass and swayed to and fro in the 
swing. 

“Lifting the gate latch, she staggered along the 
walk to the wide veranda and her strength was 
far spent when she reached the door, grasped the 


WILD MADGE OF THE STREET 


168 


knob, gave it a turn, the door swung open, and she 
fell full length into the hall. 

“An old watch-dog, lying on a rug in front of an 
:open fireplace in the adjoining room, came bound¬ 
ing into the hall, with a bark and a growl, with 
bristles raised. Madge spoke and the dog came for¬ 
ward wagging his tail. She reached one thin, white 
hand and entwined her arm about his shaggy neck. 
He dragged her in by the fire, then curled up on his 
rug and she pillowed her head on his soft body and 
went to sleep.” 

“Home, home, sweet, sweet home. 

Be it ever so humble, 

There’s no place like home.” 

Softly, sweetly, clearly the singers chanted those 
wonderful words of Howard Payne. Then repeated 
them louder and fuller until many in the audience 
sobbed aloud. 

The speaker dropped in a chair as the song floated 
forth and sat with bowed head until the sound died 
out in a faint melodious whisper. Straightening up, 
he continued: 

“As the fingers of light shot across the Eastern 
sky a footfall was heard on the stair as a form came 
slowly down the steps, crossed the hall and paused 
a moment at the open door, then rushed across the 
room and clasped the bundle of rags. It was no 
longer old Madge of the street, but ‘Maggie, my 
darling, I’m so glad you are here.’ The Wild Wan- 


164 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


derer turned her pale, white face and faintly mur¬ 
mured: 

“ ‘He was wounded for our transgressions, He was 
bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace 
was upon Him and with His stripes we are healed;’ does 
that mean me? 

“Another form appeared, strong arms reached 
down, and lifted her, as if she were a child, and bore 
her upstairs and tenderly placed her in mother’s bed; 
while mother carefully tucked the cover about her. 

“ ‘ ‘He was wounded for our transgressions,’ ’ came 
faintly from the thin, blue lips. ‘Does that mean 
me?’ At last she had found one who knew how to 
guide her to the haven of rest, and as mother wept 
and prayed, two thin delicate hands came from be¬ 
neath the white counterpane and two lips were 
breathing a prayer to Him who never kicked a sin¬ 
ner. And, as they prayed, God dropped pardon into 
the sin-sick, weary heart; so the Lord took back one 
whom the world rejected. 

“As they rejoiced together over Heaven’s bless¬ 
ings there was a scratching at the door and the Wild 
Wanderer, who was now at home, said faintly: 
‘Mother, let Carlo in.’ The door was opened and the 
big dog came to the bed to be caressed by the hand 
he had felt in other days. Turning her eyes to her 
mother’s face she said: ‘Mother, last night, in the 
city, I felt that death was near and a great desire 
seized me to look upon the dear faces of you and 


WILD MADGE OF THE STREET 


165 


father once more. I intended to steal in while you 
were asleep, take one farewell look, then slip away 
to die, that you might never know of the sin and 
suffering of your child; but when I reached the door 
my strength failed me and I fell upon the floor and 
had it not been for Carlo I would have died in the 
hall. He was the first to welcome me or to be kind 
to me for months. You have forgiven me, God has 
forgiven me and I am ready to die for I can not live. 
When I die, please bury me under my little swing 
out in the yard beneath the boughs of the great tree 
where I used to make my playhouse with my doll, 
and when Carlo dies bury him by my side.’ 

“Later the chariot of God swung low, the Wild 
Wanderer stepped on and was borne out of the room, 
up above the tree tops and on beyond the stars to the 
City Celestial where twelve big gates stand open 
all day and there is no night there. Here the Wild 
Wanderer received a welcome, for the mask of 
scarlet had been removed by the Cross of Crimson. 

“A rift in the clouds let the sun peep through and 
his warm kiss melted the snow to tears that bathed 
the ground, causing the grass to spring green and 
the flowers to open their petals with a sweet smile 
of welcome to Spring. 

“A mocking-bird drew his head from beneath his 
wing and caroled to his mate as the wind stirred the 
leaves in the tree, causing a little swing to vibrate 
above two graves; on the head board :of one was 
written: 


166 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


‘MAGGIE, OUR DARLING.’ 

“On the head hoard of the other was: 

‘CARLO, HER DOG.’ 

“Thus ends the tragedy of a broken heart, a 
blighted life, and a darkened home. A tragedy be¬ 
ing re-enacted thousands and thousands of times 
each year in this fair land of ours, the saddest note 
of which tells that but very few ever recover, ever 
get back to home and God. Let us bow in prayer. 

“0 God, our Father, we, in our weakness and ig¬ 
norance, have endeavored to portray to this audience 
some of the sorrowful conditions confronting and 
surrounding the unfortunate girlhood of America. 
Bless thy truth and awaken the public to its obliga¬ 
tion to Thee in behalf of those unfortunate girls who 
have been sinned against and who desire some kind 
of a chance to make good in life. Help each one 
present to do his or her part in this great cause, and 
speed the day when commercialized vice will be a 
thing of the past. Help us to do all in our power 
to bring back the songs of gladness and the flower 
of grace into the crushed lives about us. Have mercy, 
0 God, on the men who are responsible for the 
wreckage and ruin of woman kind. Bless every in¬ 
fluence that is working for the uplift of humanity, 
for Christ’s sake. Amen.” 

Violet recognized the voice in prayer as the voice 
praying in the open air meeting in Dallas which 


WILD MADGE OF THE STREET 


167 


caused her to attempt to begin life anew. She was 
deeply moved as the speaker, with flushed face, said: 

“You have my message, let me beg you to act upon 
it as you will wish you had acted when you meet it 
at the final judgment.” 

An offering was taken. Violet gave twenty dol¬ 
lars, all she had with her. The total offering 
amounted to $60.00 in cash and $225.00 in pledges. 
There were people present who could have given 
their thousands without missing it. 

The cash received was slightly more than suf¬ 
ficient to meet the traveling expenses of those who 
conducted the special services; then how were the 
workers to be compensated? And how were the fif¬ 
teen girls in Hope Cottage to be cared for? 

A question to be answered, and a problem to be 
solved by the rescue workers. 

When the offering was counted, the speaker 
thanked the audience for their presence and for the 
contribution, then in conclusion said: “You can see 
we are not out for the money as this is a fair show¬ 
ing of our average offerings. We are out because 
we know girls are being wronged and because we 
want to see those wrongs righted, and the evils 
abolished. We know there is an organized, system¬ 
atized, and legalized traffic in girls in this country. 

“Fully one hundred thousand girls are sacrificed 
each year to keep the public haunts of shame in oper- 


168 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


ation and each girl represents not less than five 
boys,” said the speaker. 

“The Syndicate of Vice collects fifteen million dol¬ 
lars annually in Chicago alone from the degradation 
of girlhood, and the head of the White Slave Traffic 
in the South lives in New Orleans and is a member 
of the Louisiana State Legislature. All of these 
facts can be verified with little trouble, and yet 
when we ask for a few dollars with which to redeem 
these girls and boys, we are honored with nickels 
and pennies when we should receive hundreds and 
thousands of dollars. No wonder that spirituality 
in this country is at such low ebb. Notwithstanding 
all these facts we are in the fight to the finish, be¬ 
cause we know when a girl loses her way, regardless 
of how her ruin is accomplished, she has placed upon 
her and her offspring the invisible curse of the scar¬ 
let mask. Paraphrasing Rienzi’s address to the 
Roman I say: ‘Have we brave sons?’ Look into the 
licensed saloon to see them die. Have we fair 
daughters? Look to see them live, torn from our 
homes, dishonored, disgraced. If we dare ask for 
their return, we are answered by the mocking, 
sneering laugh of the vice lords. And yet this is 
America; Christian America; that sends prayer 
books to the barbarians and missionaries to the 
Antipodes. 

“Why, to be an American is the greatest thing in 
the world. But hear me once again, ye walls that 


WILD MADGE OF THE STREET 


169 


have echoed to the sound of gospel truths, once again 
I swear the American white slaves shall be free. 
Arise, let us receive the benediction.” 

Violet was so wrought up she felt like screaming. 
She wanted to speak to the Christian workers, but 
there was such a choking in her throat she hastened 
out of the building and hurried home. All night long 
she tumbled and tossed with her brain on fire. 


CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
A VISIT TO HOPE COTTAGE. 

S OME days later Violet passed through Pueblo, 
on her way to Canyon City, and visited Hope 
Cottage which she found in the outskirts of the city 
in a large building originally erected for a private 
sanitarium. There were a couple of women in 
charge of some fifteen young girls, as inmates, most 
of them were illiterates, and several held babies in 
their laps, two of the babies were syphilitic. To 
Violet the entire scene was most pitifully heartrend¬ 
ing. She spoke words of encouragement to the girls 
and women in charge, then took her departure for 
Canyon City. There she secured a carriage and 
went to the rim of the Royal Gorge. Her heart was 
so oppressed she failed to receive the usual inspira¬ 
tion from the great, silent mountains. She sat upon 
the rim of this gorge and looked down below at the 
rushing Arkansas River, and the silver-like ribbons 
of steel marking the trail of the Denver and Rio 
Grande Railroad. As she sat looking into the dizzy 
depths of that famous granite-walled canyon, there 
came to her ears the muffled screams of a locomo¬ 
tive, like the dying heart cry of some mighty moun¬ 
tain monster, and a tiny train, serpent-like, came 
winding its way up the gorge. The rear coach looked 
like a flat car with seats across that were occupied 
by dolls. She was too high to be seen by any of 

170 


A VISIT TO HOPE COTTAGE 


171 


that pleasure party. The train soon slipped from 
view and she was left to the communion of her own 
heart. 

“There are five hundred thousand girls living 
public lives of immorality in the United States,” she 
murmured, “and a hundred thousand of them die 
annually. What a harvest! And the lecturer said 
there is only one girl out of every hundred that 
recovers from such a life. Yes, I am one of them— 
the fiery letters are tattooed all over my body and all 
over my soul.” 

Her musings were interrupted by a footfall and 
looking up she beheld a motherly woman with a 
kindly face approaching. “I beg your pardon, dear,” 
said the lady. “I did not mean to be an intruder.” 

“No intrusion whatever, I assure you,” replied 
Violet. “Won’t you have a seat here where you can 
get a wonderful view of this marvelous gorge?” 

“Thank you, I believe I will, and rest a few min¬ 
utes. I have been on a long stroll and am somewhat 
fatigued. And your name is?” 

“Miss Verner, Violet Verner,” Violet filled in. 

“Violet Verner! What a pretty name! My broth¬ 
er, Colonel Cody, had a friend in Texas, an officer, 
I believe, by the name of Verner.” 

“Where in Texas?” asked Violet. 

“Waco, I believe.” 

“That was my father. And are you the sister of 


172 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


the famous Buffalo Bill? I have often heard my 
father speak of him,” said Violet. 

“Yes, I am preparing the manuscript of the life 
story of my brother. You know he loved the moun¬ 
tains and the plains and I am refreshing my mind 
with some of the scenes of his life as scout and guide. 
I think the loveliest of all scenes in America is the 
spot selected by my brother for his home in the 
valley of the little Big Horn. If you ever have the 
opportunity, be sure to visit that spot.” 

Violet did not speak of her father’s death because 
it might lead to a disclosure of her own unfortunate 
life. 

When they separated, Violet felt as if she had met 
a real human being with a kind, honest heart. 

On the return trip Violet was taken over the won¬ 
derful skyline drive that can never be appreciated 
except by actual experience. While waiting for her 
train in Canyon City, she walked out past the sul¬ 
phur soda springs, on into the Royal Gorge where 
the swinging bridge spanned the Arkansas River. 

Those solemn, red granite walls lifting their 
smooth sides more than a half mile above her head 
were awe inspiring. She would gladly have wel¬ 
comed death had it come unsought, and could she 
have known that her body would remain undisturbed 
in those somber solitudes. She returned to town bare¬ 
ly in time to catch the Sante Fe for Colorado Springs, 
where she hoped to get an interview with Rev. Wm. 


A VISIT TO HOPE COTTAGE 


173 


H. Lee, to learn more of the man and his wife who 
had conducted the special service at St. Paul’s. 

In Colorado Springs she spent the night at the 
Antlers, from where she ’phoned to the residence of 
the Rev. Mr. Lee, only to learn he was away from 
home and would be gone several days. 

Before leaving the Springs, she went for one more 
drive and was taken to Glenn Erie, by a very intelli¬ 
gent guide who told her a charming story about the 
place. He said: “General Palmer, who was a gen¬ 
eral in the Union Army, during the Civil War, came 
west at the close of the war to rebuild his shattered 
fortune, and settled in Colorado. He secured pos¬ 
session of thousands of acres of land, he built the 
Denver and Rio Grande Railroad, of which he was 
the moving spirit for years. He fell in love with a 
beautiful young woman who became his bride, and 
so thoroughly were they enraptured with each other 
that he determined to build a home in the heart of 
the Rockies to hide away from the world. 

“We are now at the gate and will have to leave the 
carriage here. Just to the left you behold the rustic 
cottage of the superintendent of the premises. This 
gate through which we are now passing, you will 
notice, has separate openings for carriages and 
pedestrians; the carved stone for this wall was im¬ 
ported by him, from Europe. The rustic seats, be¬ 
neath the boughs of these ancient trees, are almost 
hidden behind delicately trained shrubbery. You 


174 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


will notice in the trees above the seats, oddly de¬ 
signed lamps made to withstand the ravages of time 
and weather. Many of the trees bordering this 
driveway were put here by the General’s own hands 
and were brought by him from many parts of the 
world. Just to your left, is one of the many fish 
pools on the estate, which are built into the solid 
rock, and which are stocked with the game fish from 
many waters; this is the Black Bass pool and you can 
see a school of those beauties by looking closely into 
the water. There are several large reservoirs which 
furnish abundance of pure mountain water, cold and 
clear, that is piped throughout the premises. Here 
is one of the many drinking fountains you will find 
at convenient points along the way. Try a sup of 
this natural ice water. 

“You almost passed, unnoticed, this beautiful rus¬ 
tic rock cottage, hid amid the foliage, which is one 
of the number of cottages for the caretakers of 
the grounds. During the General’s lifetime this road, 
along which we are strolling, was sprinkled every 
day. If your eye will follow the course of my 
pointer, you will see high on yonder granite moun¬ 
tain side an eagle nest, built by the eagle that 
hatched its young there, but was afterwards killed 
because it came very near stealing one of the Gen¬ 
eral’s baby girls. They just had two children, both 
girls, who were tutored by a private instructor in 
the little granite school house I will show you later. 


A VISIT TO HOPE COTTAGE 


175 


“You will notice the bridge we are now crossing 
has paneled rails made of different kinds of wood; 
no two panels are alike, either as to design or 
material. We now come in sight of the mansion 
which you see for a moment. Seven steps remove 
you to where you will see it no more on the journey. 
To the right is one of the beautiful lawns, so green, 
cool and inviting on a hot summer day. Beyond the 
lawn is the hidden rose garden where a great variety 
of roses bloom, and a little further, hidden by a 
natural growth, is the berry patch that supplied the 
family with almost every kind of berry. The main 
residence is said to have cost one and a half million 
dollars and is strongly fortified. The barn is reached 
by an overground and underground passage. 

“When he built his home he had to provide pro¬ 
tection for his family against blood-thirsty Indians 
and wicked desperadoes. All entrances are con¬ 
nected to the residence and care-takers’ cottages by 
a secret signal system. Step this way and you lose 
sight of that imposing building. Here stands 
Mazasomo, a red sandstone obelisk more than one 
hundred feet high, a silent, solemn sentinel, while 
just there in the granite cliff you can see where the 
wind and rain have chiseled out the profile of an 
Indian chief, who, in full war costume, is on one knee 
looking towards the mansion. During his life the 
General had the thousands of acres of land that lie 
back in the mountain, protected by a strong fence 


176 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


and well stocked with deer, antelope, bear, buffalo, 
and other wild game. Since he and his wife have 
died, this property is on the market and can be 
purchased for less than twenty-five per cent of its 
cost, or actual value.” 

Violet was charmed with the wonderful Glenn 
Erie and delighted with its romance, and as she re¬ 
turned to Denver, she wondered why so much wealth, 
love and happiness are bestowed :on some individuals 
while others have so little. 

On reaching home she found Martha had a visitor, 
Henry Jackson, an honest-looking negro man from 
the south. He had come to mow the lawn, and find¬ 
ing Martha was from Dixie had tarried to talk. She 
was sitting on the porch and he was standing near 
by when Violet walked in from the rear. 


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 


MARTHA MARRIES. 

But happiest they, the happiest of their kind! 

Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate 
Their hearts, their fortunes and their beings blend. 

—Thomas. 

In all creation the union of two lives is planned. 
Some one has lightly sung: 

“The dogs and the cats, the mice and the rats, 

And the fishes that swim in the sea; 

The birdies that fly, and the pigs in the sty 
Are all getting married but me.” 


«WHY don’t you folks get married?” asked 
▼ ▼ Violet of Henry and Martha one day when 
she found them in the kitchen talking earnestly to¬ 
gether. 

“Gon on ’way from hyer, Miss Violet, you know 
you don’t want me to go an’ git married,” answered 
Martha. Henry rather thought it would be “a pow- 
ful good move.” 

Violet soon realized there were quite serious 
thoughts in the minds of both her servants. Mat¬ 
rimony seemed to be in their future plans. 

This book is not dealing in marriage; the author 
wishes it were, for the subject is so much more pleas¬ 
ing. The author has been taken to task for not 
getting more of his characters marching to the 
music of the wedding bells. That would be nice and 
pleasant to the writer, for many of the class he is 

177 


178 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


dealing with believe marriage is next door to para¬ 
dise; but, alas, very few of them marry and “live 
happy ever afterwards.” Therefore, the author can 
hardly be true to his subject and relate many mar¬ 
riages. He believes marriage was instituted of God 
in the days of man’s innocency, and is not to be 
entered into unadvisedly, but discreetly, wisely, and 
in the fear of God. 

Violet, ever working for the happiness of others, 
entered heartily into the arrangements of the wed¬ 
ding, giving them a fine “send-off.” Henry was a 
trustworthy man, and Violet was glad to see good 
Martha find a companion to love and care for her. 
After the wedding they returned to Texas for a few 
weeks on their “honeymoon” at Violet’s expense. 
This left Violet all alone in her quiet home. And she 
literally was left alone, for none of her neighbors 
came about her. 

When one has all one can carry, a very small act 
or incident will fall with crushing force on one’s 
soul. The wise men of other years said: “Behold, 
how great a matter a little fire kindleth!” Often 
there comes to us a look, or word, or act, that so 
impresses us as to change the entire course of our 
pilgrimage. Looking back in after years you say: 

“One scarce would think so small a thing, 

Would cause a loss so large.” 

We are told the great Chicago fire was caused by 


MARTHA MARRIES 


179 


a cow overturning a lamp. The late World War, in 
which millions lost their lives, came as the result of 
two persons being killed, we are informed. A child 
pressed a button, and an electric spark blew up Hell 
Gate in New York Harbor. 

Byron tells us: 

“But words are things, and a small drop of ink, 

Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces 

That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.” 

Violet was bearing a load, bearing it cheerfully, 
when the “straw that broke the camel’s back” 
crushed her completely. There were plenty of people 
in Denver who would have gladly shared that load 
with her. They did not know of the need, she did 
not know how to obtain the supply. 

Thus, day after day, she struggled on along her 
uneven path. To employ her mind one afternoon 
she was frying some doughnuts over an oil stove on 
her rear porch. Mr. Blanton’s little girl, Mabel, was 
at play in her yard, smelled the frying doughnuts 
and, childlike, came to the partition fence where a 
picket had been knocked off, took her seat on the 
rail, and looked wistfully toward Violet. Noticing the 
child, Violet selected some of the choicest doughnuts, 
placed them on a plate, called the little girl and gave 
them to her. Mabel thanked the kind lady and ran 
home with her treasure. As the child came in, Mrs. 
Blanton, in a loud and angry voice, squalled out: 
“Where have you been, Mabel? Where did you get 


180 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


those doughnuts? You’ve been disobeying me. Take 
them right back to that woman. I told you not to 
go about her, she’s a bad woman.” 

The child, with tearful eyes, retraced her steps 
and returned the doughnuts with the statement: 
“Mamma said I had been naughty, and can’t have 
the doughnuts. She told me to bring them back. 
She said you was bad.” 

Violet took the plate, spoke kindly to the little one, 
heaved a sigh, bit her lip, and suffered in silence. 
“My time will come, by and by, and the way will be 
opened for me to win that family,” she thought to 
herself. 

Kestless and with sleepless eyes, Violet sat on her 
porch until late one night watching the play of the 
fleecy clouds as they scurried past the beautiful, 
bright moon. In the distance were the snow covered 
mountains, silent as the Pyramids of Egypt, stand¬ 
ing like solemn sentinels of God’s vast solitudes. 
What mysteries were locked in the cold embrace of 
those mighty monarchs that had stood through the 
centuries! What stories of love, of devotion, of 
jealousy, of intrigue, of hatred, of war, of crime, and 
of conquest enacted by past and long forgotten races, 
those lofty peaks could tell! Hours sped by, the 
night grew chilly, but still she remained musing in 
the shadow on her porch. A clock, in some distant 
steeple, solemnly marked off eleven strokes. “Eleven 
o’clock,” she said, “I must retire.” 


MARTHA MARRIES 


181 


She passed into the house and was soon in dream¬ 
land, but was awakened by a violent ringing of the 
door bell. Slipping on her wrap she went to the door, 
finding Mrs. Blanton, her next door neighbor, with 
white, agonized face as if in great distress. Before 
Violet could speak the woman, with agony in her 
voice, said: “Miss Verner, my little girl is very sick, 
her father is away, the ’phone is disconnected and I 
don’t know what to do, won’t you come over and see 
what you can do for her?” 

Violet went over, found the little girl suffering 
with croup, and instinctively did the right thing, 
and soon had the child resting easy and sleeping 
quietly. She remained with Mrs. Blanton until 
nearly daylight, then returned home, threw herself 
on the bed and sighed, “Well, I guess the ice is broken 
at last, I will now be given a chance to prove myself 
and my intention to do right.” With that she 
dropped off to sleep. 

About a week later Violet was sitting on her front 
porch one afternoon when she saw the Blantons 
come forth, for a walk, Accompanied by a stranger. 
They turned as if coming to her place. She thought, 
“now they will give me recognition.” As they 
crossed the lawn leading to the street, Violet had 
noticed the strange man glance casually in her di¬ 
rection, but had failed to see his start of recognition. 
As they passed the Verner cottage, they looked in 
the opposite direction and entirely ignored the 


182 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


hungry-hearted woman, who longed for a crumb of 
kind fellowship. It was then she recognized Duke 
Darling, who gazed at her knowingly, and Violet 
knew she was doomed. After they had passed from 
view Violet sat thinking, then said to herself: “It is 
no use, there is no place for me, they will not give 
me a chance, I am going back into the game, and the 
world may take the consequences, and you, Duke 
Darling, shall be my first victim.” With this she 
arose and entered the house, later going to the hotel 
for the night. 

She, like thousands of others, had come in contact 
with the invisible hands of cold steel that, like prison 
bars, obstruct the freedom and prevent the escape of 
a soul in bondage. 

The next day Violet wired for Henry and Martha 
to return at once, packed her things in her trunks, 
ordered a carriage, went to the city, placed her home 
on the market and prepared to leave Denver. 

Violet talked with her colored servants who were 
her only friends, then took them into the valley of 
the Big Horn, purchased a beautiful little ranch, put 
them in charge of it, told them she was going in 
quest of her baby boy, and would return from time 
to time, but if she should fail to get back, the ranch 
was theirs. 

This wind-driven, storm-tossed woman boarded 
the train at Cody, Wyoming, and set her face to¬ 
wards the surging, seething, restless, human sea, 


MARTHA MARRIES 


183 


with its teeming millions of souls struggling amid 
the murky waters of humanity’s most terrible and 
overwhelming evil—the Social System—and was 
swallowed up in its turbulent depths, only to arise 
in relentless fury to strike the Social Evil a deadly 
blow. 


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 

THE WOMAN IN BLACK. 

Thine eyes are full of tears; 

Are they wet 
Even yet 

With the thoughts of other years? 

—Lowell. 

W HITE fleecy clouds drifting like phantoms of 
the night slipped from before the moon per¬ 
mitting its pale, mellow light to fall full upon a dark 
figure flitting from grave to grave in the beautiful 
Oakwood Cemetery in Waco, Texas. Coming to a 
grass covered lot, enclosed with a low granite wall, 
the figure paused long enough to decipher the word 
“VEENER” carved deep in the granite stone mark¬ 
ing the family burial lot. She stole softly into the 
enclosure and throwing herself across the grave 
marked “Mother,” the poor creature moaned and 
sobbed out her heartrending grief. 

“Oh! My precious, darling mother, won’t you come 
to me tonight and once more smooth back my hair 
and plant your love kiss on my throbbing brow? 
Mother, dear, why, oh, why, did you not answer my 
letter and tell me you forgave me the great wrong 
I did you in going away to marry Richard Wheeler 
without your consent? I thought it was all for the 
best, and he told me that it would be all right when 
I wrote and told you. He promised to bring me back 
after the ceremony was over and when he had had 


184 


THE WOMAN IN BLACK 


185 


a chance to reconcile his father; but he deceived me, 
bitterly deceived me, and oh, Mother, he cast me out 
as a thing unclean; now I am branded an outcast 
among the outcasts of earth. Darling, can you hear 
me? Will you forgive your poor heart-broken child? 
Will you ask God to have mercy on me, who through 
my ignorance and folly caused you to die with a 
broken heart and was the cause of these two noble 
men, my father and brother, being murdered by 
Richard Wheeler? 0 God, how can I stand it? These 
three graves are here as the result of my mistakes 
and blunders, but, God in Heaven, Thou knowest that 
I was innocent of any intentional wrong doing.” 

Kneeling there amid those silent graves, weeping 
as if her heart would break with sheer loneliness and 
heart hunger, she sobbed out her unutterable grief 
in the stillness of the night. Then throwing back the 
thick, black veil from her beautiful, white face, she 
drew her form to a kneeling posture and reaching 
out her frenzied hands, pleaded for help from the 
loved ones sleeping in those quiet graves, but no re¬ 
sponse came. 

Then, clenching her fists, and writhing in agony, 
she groaned: “Richard Wheeler, you are the cause 
of it all. You claimed to be my friend and through 
that profession led me to trust you, and then you 
grossly betrayed me and cruelly deserted me and 
your own child. You did not stop there, you have 
forced me down, down until I am tonight a wild 


186 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


wanderer in the desert of death, and you are the 
cause of these three graves being filled with those 
who were dearest to me in life. Richard Wheeler, 
I hate you, if I had you here tonight, I could gladly 
tear your very heart out with these hands of mine.” 

Her voice was tense and awful, for her soul was 
in the white heat of a terrible hatred. Pausing a 
moment, she lifted her white, suffering face to the 
pale moon, and extending her hands above her head 
continued: “Thou silent, beautiful moon, hear me 
as I kneel by these graves in thy soft light. I am a 
child without a parent, a sister without a brother, 
a wife without a husband, a mother without a child, 
a woman without a country, and a soul without a 
God, all, all, because of the treachery of Richard 
Wheeler, and that treachery made possible by the 
cruel Social System of this country, which forgives 
the man and condemns the woman; hear me, thou 
pale moon, I pledge never to rest day or night until 
I have been avenged on that black hearted demon, 
Richard Wheeler, and have caused this country to 
feel the guilt of its crimes against girlhood. 

“Have I not been driven deeper down and further 
away from the things that are noble and true? Men 
love beauty and they say I am beautiful, but they are 
ever attempting to mar that in me which they claim 
to admire. I hate them, I abhor them, and will play 
the game as they play it—to win. 

“Let them beware, they have set the pace and 


THE WOMAN IN BLACK 


187 


must abide the consequences. All men are the same to 
me, unless—” she faltered, “unless I chance to meet 
Claude again and find him true; then things might 
be different, but, should he meet me as I am now 
he would shun me as the rest have done. No, there is 
one thing, and only one thing, for me to live for now 
and that is to find my precious baby and to avenge 
the wrongs of girlhood.” As the torrent of words 
leaped from her hot, parched lips, she sank in agony 
on the grave of her mother and became unconscious. 

A heavy cloud stole before the moon, shutting out 
the light, then a patter of rain fell upon the white, 
upturned face, causing the lone sufferer to moan 
and open her eyes. Pulling herself to her knees she 
bent over, kissed the headstone of each of the three 
graves, pulled the thick veil over her face, and silent¬ 
ly disappeared in the dark. 


CHAPTER NINETEEN 

A QUESTION OF HONOR. 

Title and profit I resign; 

The part of honor shall be mine. 

—Gay. 

J EFFERSON DAVIS was not so handsome as he 
was attractive. Slightly above the average 
height, a compact, athletic figure with military bear¬ 
ing; a quick, bright mind, a face that denoted 
strength of purpose, dark blue eyes that changed 
in shade according to the mood of their possessor. 
Eyes in the depths of which fountains of love played, 
beneath which volcanic forces slumbered. A head 
well poised, and covered with luxuriant brown hair 
inclined to be curly. Jefferson was a man to be ap¬ 
preciated as a friend and to be dreaded as an enemy. 
Of a pleasing, magnetic personality, with a big, gen¬ 
erous heart, he drew people to him as the flowers 
are drawn to the sun. His parents were wealthy, 
and strongly attached to their dashing, affectionate 
boy. At the head of his class in the university, leader 
of the athletic sports on the campus, and a good 
musician—these qualifications made him the most 
popular man in the graduating class of ’13. 

To fill the cup of joy to overflowing he had won 
the heart and hand :of Miss Grace Garland, the only 
daughter of one of the oldest and most honorable 
families in the South. Miss Garland was the belle 


188 


A QUESTION OF HONOR 


189 


of the historic Virginia city where her parents re¬ 
sided in their Southern mansion known as Garland 
Manor. Her father was a prominent lawyer and 
distinguished jurist. The young people had met 
while attending college, had fallen in love and were 
so devoted to each other the parents of both were 
well pleased. Through the influence of Miss Gar¬ 
land, Jefferson had abstained from such vices so 
common in college life as using tobacco, drinking and 
gambling. 

Jefferson’s father, Major Sanford Davis, lumber, 
oil and mining magnate, was devoted to his fearless 
gallant son and was planning a tour of continental 
Europe with him, after his graduation. Jeff’s vaca¬ 
tions had been spent in company with his father in 
the mines and ranches of the West, and the great 
lumber forests of the North, where he had learned 
to be an expert horseman, a dead shot and an all 
round huntsman. He and his father were comrades. 

While preparing for the graduating exercises 
Jack Julian, a jealous hearted man of powerful 
physique and overbearing disposition, became in¬ 
volved in a discussion with Jeff and not being the 
intellectual equal of his opponent. Jack became 
angry and called Jeff a bastard, for which Jeff 
promptly knocked him down and accepted a chal¬ 
lenge to fight a duel. Jeff being the challenged party, 
had the choice of weapons, and chose revolvers at 
twelve paces. The seconds were chosen, and selected 


190 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


a lonely mountain-locked vale in the Blue Ridge of 
the Alleghanies, the time one week later at sunset 

One of Jeff’s friends came to him with a story told 
by Jack with reference to his, Jeff’s, birth. “Of 
course,” said his friend, “Jack is jealous of you and 
has adopted a sneaking, contemptible method of at¬ 
tack, ‘For he that steals my purse, steals trash; but 
he who steals my good name, steals my all,’ was well 
spoken long ago!” 

Jeff obtained leave of absence and went home to 
interview his parents. Looking them straight in the 
face, he asked, “Are you my own parents? Am I 
your flesh and blood?” 

Mrs. Davis dropped her eyes, while the Major 
looked out of the window and asked: “Why, Jeffer¬ 
son, what put that question in your mind?” 

Jeff’s heart pounded like a trip hammer, as he 
slowly said: “On several occasions of late there have 
been dropped in my hearing little slurs and infer¬ 
ences that I am a waif. Just last week I knocked 
a young fellow down for calling me a bastard.” 

“You did perfectly right,” said Major Davis, “he 
ought to have been knocked down.” 

“But, father, there has arisen a question in my 
mind and I beg for you to answer me directly, and 
candidly—am I your own son?” 

Major and Mrs. Davis had been discussing the 
wisdom of their course in keeping the knowledge of 


A QUESTION OF HONOR 


191 


the identity of their son from him. Had he a right 
to marry into another family and that family be 
deceived as to his parentage?—that was a question 
which had presented itself to their minds. 

Now they were brought to face the issue squarely. 
In the past they had never been required to answer 
any questions regarding the subject. They had 
eased their consciences and satisfied their own 
minds to let him be known as their son because they 
had ADOPTED him, but now they must deliberately 
lie or tell the plain truth. 

The Major would have thrown the question to the 
winds and have deliberately lied, persuading him¬ 
self that the end justified the means, but he knew 
his wife was already disturbed over the question, 
and he further knew her sensitive conscience would 
not permit her to longer use deception in the matter, 
and especially since being confronted with the direct 
question by the one most concerned. 

He looked at his wife, then at Jeff, and said de¬ 
liberately: “Jefferson, my boy, we have loved you 
as well as we think we would have loved our own 
son had he lived. You came to us when three months 
,of age and took the place, made empty in our hearts, 
by the recent death of our only baby boy of like age. 
We received you from the city health officer who 
told us your mother was unable to provide for you, 
and, being sick at the city hospital, had left you in 
the care of a negro woman. He said it would be 


192 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


doing an act of mercy to both you and your mother, 
for us to take you and care for you. The negro 
woman came to the hotel in Dallas (from whence 
you came), the next day. She was weeping and 
seemed to be devoted to you and your mother, who 
she said was the prettiest and sweetest creature in 
all the world. 

“She called your mother her ‘Po’ li’l lamb’, who, she 
said, had been deceived into a mock marriage and 
then deserted by your father and left to do the best 
she could. Your mother’s name was given as Violet 
Verner. In our desperate grief over the loss of our 
own baby boy, and in our mad selfishness to have 
that grief alleviated, in a measure, by keeping you 
we never considered the probable anguish of your 
lonely girl mother. We sincerely believed we were 
doing you and her a priceless favor in providing for 
you a home and giving you our name. 

“The negro woman gave us her address, but we 
were so fearful of losing you we never attempted to 
communicate with her for several years. When we 
did go in search of the negro woman to see if we 
could find and render any assistance to your mother, 
she, and your mother, had disappeared from the 
city. Then it was we began to see how selfish we 
had been and grieved over our unintentional cruelty 
to her, because we were amply able to have rendered 
material aid to them both. 

“With honesty of heart we have endeavored to 


A QUESTION OF HONOR 


193 


make reparation to your mother for the injustice 
done her by bestowing our very best on you. 

“My boy, I have truthfully told you all I know 
about yourself and parentage, for we never learned 
anything of your father, and I ask you to forgive us 
for any and all wrong we have done you and your 
unfortunate mother.” 

As he spoke, Jeff sat like one crushed. He raised 
a white, agonized face to his foster parents and 
groaned: “After all, I am what Jack Julian called 
me. I thank you both for your love and devotion to 
me; it has been all any one could think of asking, and 
I forgive you, yes, freely forgive you, the uninten¬ 
tional wrong you have done my dear mother and 
me. 0 God, how can I give her up? Grace and I 
can never marry now, my sense of honor forbids 
me deceiving her, and if I tell her of my illegitimate 
birth she can not unite her life with mine. For the 
sake of her future happiness our engagement must 
be broken.” 

His misery and grief were terrible to behold. He 
arose to his feet, staggered across the room, dropped 
on the floor between his foster parents, took each 
of them by the hand and said: “My dear, good bene¬ 
factors, my more than parents, you have been so 
mindful of my welfare all these years and I have 
so little with which to repay you, and now I must 
leave you, for my darling mother may be some¬ 
where in this big, cold world fighting for existence, 


194 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


needing my help. With that thought to haunt me 
day and night I can never, never be happy again 
until I have exhausted my strength and resources in 
an attempt to find her and succor my poor unfor¬ 
tunate and suffering mother. Violet Verner—what 
a sweet, musical name! May heaven help me find 
her!” 

“Jefferson,” said Major Davis, “You need not give 
up your home with us to go on such a mission. We 
owe your mother a debt we can never repay. Our 
hearts and fortune are with you, and at your dis¬ 
posal in the search for your mother.” 

Gripping their hands firmly, Jeff spoke with 
agony and joy in his voice: “How can I express my 
appreciation to you, my dear parents? I will return 
to the university, secure my degree and begin the 
search at once. Grace! Grace! My darling Grace, 
how can I give you up?” He dropped his head in his 
mother’s lap and Mrs. Davis, with motherly affec¬ 
tion and tender solicitude, soothed his fast beating 
pulse with the touch of her soft hands and sweet 
voice. 

When he returned to the university, it was with 
the purpose of avoiding the duel with Jack Julian, as 
he wanted nothing to interfere with the immediate 
start on the search for his mother. 

Jack refused to accept any kind of compromise, 
except the most thorough humiliation of his antag¬ 
onist. He believed Jeff was weakening, and would 


A QUESTION OF HONOR 


195 


be so completely cowed by the day of the duel he 
would refuse to fight, and his name, the name of 
Jack Julian, would be on the lips of the fraternity 
as the hero of the hour. Jack was self conceited and 
had a way of imagining great things that never 
came to pass. 

On the appointed day a small company went for a 
hunt in the Blue Ridge range and came to a lonely 
vale just before sunset. Two men were to settle a 
question of honor. Jeff had taken the precaution to 
write a letter to Grace, his fiancee, and one to his 
foster parents, both of which were put in the hands 
of his second to be posted in case of his death. The 
affair of honor, as the boys were pleased to term it, 
had been kept a secret among just a few of them. 
Jeff had decided he would shoot the gun out of Jack's 
hand, and when he had him disarmed, give him his 
life, and thus settle the disagreeable affair. 

The guns were carefully examined, the two men 
stood with their backs together, the command was 
given, “One, two, three, four, five, six, fire!” The 
men stepped apart with each count and at the com¬ 
mand “Fire!” two reports rang through the vale 
almost simultaneously. Jack Julian dropped his 
gun, threw his hand to his head, turned half round 
and crashed to the ground. When his friends bent 
over him he was dead. The most painfully surprised 
and horror-stricken person in the company was Jeff 
Davis. His face turned white and he staggered 


196 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


over the prostrate form of his enemy. He picked 
up the revolver of his fallen foe and found his aim 
had been true but the bullet had glanced from the 
gun of Julian and struck him in the eye, causing 
almost instant death. Jeff was dazed and crushed. 
It was the first serious difficulty in his life, and he 
would be called on to answer for it in the court room. 
What the result would be he could not foretell. The 
“Scarlet Mask” was upon him, placed there without 
his knowledge or consent. Placed there by the cruel 
Social System. It was there and had resulted in 
the death of a man at his hands; had cost him his 
sweetheart, would cost him his home and brand him 
as an outlaw. He thought quickly, but definitely. 
Addressing his companions he said: “Boys, I did not 
intend to hurt him, I am sorry I killed him, but 
he is dead, and I am going to leave for parts un¬ 
known. Goodbye.” 

Some days later Miss Grace Garland received a 
letter that crushed her heart and saddened her life. 
The letter was mailed on the train and gave no 
address. 


On Board Train, 

Bound for Parts Unknown, 
June 16, 1913. 

Miss Grace Garland, 

University -. 

My darling Grace: 

Forgive me for addressing you thus and for the deep pain this 
letter will cause you. I would rather die than write you this message, 
but a question of honor demands I do so. With the deepest sense of 
humiliation and with the greatest sorrow for the wrong done you, 
I must confess to you that I am a child of illegitimate parentage. I 
have just learned this truth, and beg of you not to judge too harshly 



A QUESTION OF HONOR 


197 


those who are responsible for the deception. It is the old, old story 
of a girl deceived, betrayed, deserted, and I am the consequence. Until 
recently, I believed I was the flesh and blood of Major Davis and 
his wife. As the result of a very unpleasant incident I learned the 
story of my life. Major and Mrs. Davis, following the false idea of 
the world to help a child by covering up its identity, adopted me when 
I was three months of age and gave me their name. They have been 
as good to me as parents could be. But this one thing is the blighting 
curse that rests upon me. Just as I was graduating, just as I was 
to lead to the altar the sweetest girl on earth, just as I was to launch 
forth in life in the business world, the lightning bolt fell from a clear 
sky and crushed my hopes. While I am not at all to blame, I am 
behind the scarlet mask and must suffer the consequences. They are 
mine as a heritage from my father, whoever he may be. The con¬ 
sequences are mine and I must bear them in silence and alone. To 
find my poor, unfortunate mother and render her the assistance she 
may need will be the work of my life. 

Dear, sweet girl, I love you with my whole heart. To write you 
this letter crushes my soul. You can not accept for your husband, 
a man, to become the father of your children, who is one of unknown 
parentage. 

I have no name to offer you, I must go forth to make a name for 
myself and to make it all alone. Forgive me if this letter seems cold, 
or unreasonable, or presumptuous. My love for you prompts the 
writing. If I err it is in judgment, as my soul is in agony, my mind 
is dizzy. 

Your sweet name will ever live in my mind as the one beautiful 
girl whom I had hoped to make my bride and who has meant so much 
to me in my college life. You may write the cancellation of our en¬ 
gagement and mail it to Major and Mrs. Davis, giving your own rea¬ 
sons for doing so. No one but you and my foster parents know the 
facts confessed in this letter to you. I have done all in my power 
to shield your good name. Some day I may have the great joy of 
meeting you again, at which time I shall be bearing, not an adopted 
name, but one of my own. Please think as kindly of me as possible. 
How I dread to close this letter, knowing it is a long, long farewell. 
Goodbye, sweet girl. 

Your true, but unworthy, 

Lover. 

A long, affectionate letter was received by Major 
and Mrs. Davis. No address was given, for Jeff 
Davis, with a great agony in his heart, and a deep 
sense of honor in his soul, had set his face towards 
the setting sun and was swallowed up in the great 
West. 


CHAPTER TWENTY 


RAYMOND DREW, THE TENDERFOOT. 


T HE flaming posters announced the annual Fron¬ 
tier Day at Cheyenne, Wyoming. There were 
to be cow boys and cow girls in roping contests, rid¬ 
ing, shooting, racing, music, dancing and a hilarious 
time in general. 

Premiums were offered for best horseman, horse¬ 
woman, the best roper, the best shot with rifle and 
revolver, the fastest horse, and for many other 
exciting features of this most notable occasion. 

One hundred and sixty individuals registered for 
the riding contest, one hundred and ten on marks¬ 
manship, fifty entered the roping contest and num¬ 
erous contestants for other honors common to 
“frontier days” were lined up for the particular part 
he or she was to play. The three first named hold 
our interest for in these was to appear one with 
whom we are to meet again. 

“I feels sorry fur that Tenderfoot kid, Raymond 
Drew; he’s docketed to tackle the ‘Demon’. That’s 
the wust hoss on any man’s range,” said Dakota 
Dan to one of his pals. “Hit falls to your Uncle to 
capture the thousand wheels offered for subdoin’ 
the ‘Demon’.” 

The wildest excitement prevailed as thousands 
assembled to witness the last broncho-busting con¬ 
test of the great Frontier Day exhibition which was 

198 


RAYMOND DREW, THE TENDERFOOT 199 

drawing to a close. The “Black Demon,” a powerful, 
untamed and untamable animal from the wilds was 
the center of attraction. One thousand dollars was 
the premium to fall into the hands of the successful 
rider who could master the fiercest horse ever driven 
into a corral. The contestants who aspired for the 
honor of mastering this unconquerable brute had 
dwindled down to five, among whom was “The Ten¬ 
derfoot.” 

Raymond Drew had the appearance of a tender¬ 
foot as he stepped into the limelight before the 
judge’s stand with the four hardened frontiersmen 
decorated with badges pinned to the rough attire of 
the cow punchers of the desert. These four men 
were rough and ready, hardened to the usages of 
the mountains and desert, while the Tenderfoot wore 
a soft shirt, jeans trousers, held in place by a patent 
leather belt, boots, the tops of which reached about 
two-thirds to his knees, and a soft hat. The tender¬ 
foot had entered for the last day’s contest and no 
one believed he would last until it was half gone. 

The first test was a roping exhibit with a prize 
of one hundred dollars for the one who could rope, 
throw and tie a steer in the shortest length of time. 
The four veterans of the range came first. Each 
had his admirers for he was in his glory, a glory 
enjoyed on no other ocasion. One after another of 
these expert ranchmen gave exhibitions of skill that 
caused the people, at times, to hold their breath. 


200 BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 

Then came the Tenderfoot. Interest dwindled as 
he stepped to the front. ‘‘Who is he?” was asked 
by the old timers. “I admire his nerve,” said an¬ 
other, “to attempt to follow such men as Dakota 
Dan and his pals who have just shown us what can 
be done with a lariat.” 

Entirely unmindful of the unfavorable comment 
he was causing, Raymond Drew, the Tenderfoot, 
stepped forward twirling a delicate lasso in his hand. 
He bowed to the vast concourse and slowly turned 
so as to face them all. In the open it was seen he 
was slightly above the average height, compactly 
built, square shoulders, resolute features, brown 
hair and a curling brown mustache. His poise and 
apparent indifference won for him a few friends 
and admirers. A wild steer was turned in the arena. 
The people whispered: “Is the fool going to attempt 
to handle him afoot!” For just a moment were they 
held in suspense. The lone man, upon whom their 
gaze was fixed, turned towards the mad steer, 
dropped to his hands and feet, then arose standing 
on his head as on dashed the steer, balancing himself 
on his head with one hand he twirled the lasso with 
the other and straight it went to the horns of the 
beast; so quickly that no eye followed the movement, 
the man was on his feet, dodged the steer, set his 
feet firmly, braced himself and turned the steer a 
somersault, and before the animal could recover had 
him firmly bound. Standing erect he bowed to the 


RAYMOND DREW, THE TENDERFOOT 201 

grandstand amid the tumultuous applause that 
almost shook the ground. He was the winner of the 
roping contest and his stock rose a thousand per 
cent with the spectators. 

The test of marksmanship was to be with rifle 
and revolver. The four frontiersmen gave their 
exhibition with considerably more care and respect 
for the Tenderfoot than they had at first. Those 
men were all considered dead shots; they were the 
champions of the great West, had cleared the field 
in the Frontier Days celebration of all contestants 
except the fool Tenderfoot, whom they now believed 
to be less fool than they had judged him. Each used 
his own weapons. Clay pigeons and glass balls were 
broken with rifles and revolvers by the frontiersmen. 
Dakota Dan faced the trap from which three glass 
balls were flung into the air at one time, and he 
broke all three with his revolver before any of them 
hit the ground. A wild cheer rang forth. With rifle 
he plugged dollars and half dollars flung high in 
the air. 

The Tenderfoot duplicated all the shots preceding 
him, then turning his back on the trap from which 
were flung four glass balls, he wheeled and broke 
two of them on the upward fling, and the other two 
before they reached the ground. 

With his rifle he shot a dime thrown in the air and 
it was never recovered. To close his part of the ex¬ 
hibition he had a man throw an apple high in the air; 


202 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


after the apple had left the man’s hands the Tender¬ 
foot pulled his revolver, pitched it up so that it 
turned a double somersault, caught it in his hand and 
pierced the apple just before it struck the ground. 
The wildest applause rang forth from the mighty 
concourse of spectators. 

The most thrilling of all the exhibitions was the 
last broncho busting contest. There were four 
horses and five men. In the bunch of horses was 
Black Demon, the untamed terror of the plains. The 
five men cast lots who should ride first, with the 
understanding the successfull master of one of the 
three horses was to have the first chance at Black 
Demon. Three of the frontiersmen drew the lucky 
cards, leaving Dakota Dan and the Tenderfoot to 
come last should those three fail to conquer the 
horses. The three horses had been selected as the 
most vicious of the large eavy-yard. They were wild 
enough to afford the riders interesting work to do. 
The three riders drew wild cheers from the spec¬ 
tators, but one by one they were disabled. Two of 
the horses were conquered before they had to retire 
from the contest. The remaining horse fell to 
Dakota Dan. As he sprang into the saddle he waved 
his hat at the people and knew in his own heart he 
was destined to be the owner of the Black Demon, 
which was to be given the one who mastered him. 
Dakota Dan was a horseman. Nowhere was he 
more at home than on the back of a bucking broncho. 


RAYMOND DREW, THE TENDERFOOT 203 

To show his utter disregard for the mad plunges of 
the infuriated animal he rode, he calmly drew to¬ 
bacco and cigarette papers from his pocket, rolled 
a cigarette and lit it amid the cheers of the people. 
He was preparing to bring the horse under his con¬ 
trol, but the animal reared up and fell backward. 
Dan's foot hung in the stirrup, giving it a painful 
wrench. As the animal came to his feet the daunt¬ 
less rider was on his back and remained with him 
until the tired horse trotted off entirely mastered. 
Tremendous applause rewarded his effort. When 
he alighted from the saddle his ankle pained him so 
he was unfit for the contest with the Black Demon. 

The Tenderfoot must master the terror of the 
plains or he would remain untamed. The Demon 
was brought into the arena blindfolded, and the sad¬ 
dle put on his glossy back. Raymond Drew, the Ten¬ 
derfoot, stepped forward, examined the cinches, 
grasped the bridle on the cheek of the horse, slipped 
his foot in the stirrup and commanded: “Let him go.” 
The blind was jerked from the eyes of the maddened 
horse which plunged forward, but the rider was 
seated in the saddle. 

Well did that horse prove his title to the name 
Demon. He reared, plunged, bellowed, rolled on the 
ground, bit at his rider, struck with his hind feet and 
finally dashed at a post, reared and fell against the 
post in a way it seemed impossible for the daring 
rider to protect himself. A wave of terror swept 


204 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


the vast concourse. “He is killed,” they said. The 
horse scrambled to his feet and the rider was still in 
the saddle, master of the situation. A few more mad 
desperate plunges and the horse surrendered to his 
master, and was ridden furiously around the arena 
while the rider waved his hat in triumph to the ad¬ 
miring spectators. Cantering up to the grandstand, 
he was awarded the prizes for the best roping ex¬ 
hibition, most accurate marksmanship and the 
greatest broncho busting demonstration. With the 
prizes was included the bill of sale to the Demon. 
Seated on the thoroughly subdued horse, the daring 
rider was snapped by the camera men. Dakota Dan, 
with his pals, came forward, in true western style, to 
congratulate the victor on his triumphs. 

“Whar’ do you hail frum, pard. I never heard of 
you before?” interrogated Dakota Dan. “Yer no 
tenderfoot, yer an expert, an’ in honor of yer 
achiev’ment on this here occasion I christens yer 
Demon Drew.” With which the speaker pulled a 
small flask from his pocket and struck it against the 
horn of the saddle, causing the liquor to spatter over 
the rider, then yelled, “Boys, here’s three churs fur 
Demon Drew, thur quickest shot, thur smoothest 
man with a lariat, and the best bronc buster that 
ever hit Wyoming.” The cheers were given heartily. 
Drew waved his hat in response to the compliment, 
turned his horse’s head toward the entrance and 
dashed away. “He’s too modest, boys, to face thur 


RAYMOND DREW, THE TENDERFOOT 205 

music of his victry,” said Dakota Dan, as he turned 
away with his friends. 

Some moments later a man picked up a scarlet 
mask near where the Tenderfoot had mounted the 
Black Demon. The word flashed from lip to lip, “The 
Tenderfoot was the Lone Highwayman.” 

Search was at once instituted, but in some mys¬ 
terious manner the Tenderfoot had disappeared on 
the Black Demon. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 

PLANNING THE SCARLET EMPIRE. 


B Y special appointment four women met in a 
room at the Planters Hotel in St. Louis one 
day in the early fall of 1901 to devise ways and 
means for the overthrow of the Social System of 
America. 

The younger of the quartet had called the meeting 
and outlined the object, “as the beginning of a cam¬ 
paign against the wicked and ruthless destruction 
of American girlhood.” 

“For some months,” she said, “I have devoted my 
time to investigating vice conditions throughout the 
entire country. Every large city in the United 
States has a portion of its territory set aside for 
public commercialized vice and I learn that these 
districts are controlled by a very few individuals in 
each city. The graft obtained through control of 
these districts is simply amazing. The greed on the 
part of the politicians controlling the districts has 
grown to such an extent that there is now an organ¬ 
ized slave trade in girls. The most consummate and 
diabolical means are resorted to, in securing girls 
for these slave markets. The public is asleep on the 
subject. Now and then, I notice, a spasmodic effort 
is made to do something locally to awaken the public 
mind. For days and nights I have thought and 
planned how to undertake the launching of a move- 
206 


PLANNING THE SCARLET EMPIRE 


207 


ment that will be nation-wide. In the local spas¬ 
modic movements I see the girl is always the loser, 
the same as she is in the district, because the public 
seems to be perfectly ignorant regarding the girl 
problem. 

“The local authorities, in response to some re¬ 
ligious move, make a grand stand play about putting 
the ‘lid on vice,’ close up a few of the more disrepu¬ 
table resorts, arrest the girls or run them out of 
town. In neither case is the problem solved, for the 
girls are still on their hands. I have visited the few 
so called rescue homes—their number is pitifully 
small—but most of those in operation have little real 
knowledge of the problems they are endeavoring to 
solve. The entire program is simply child’s play. 

“There are not less than five hundred thousand 
girls and women living in public houses of immor¬ 
ality in this country, with barely sufficient rescue 
homes all told, including all classes, to house at one 
time, about five thousand girls. Many of these places 
are mere makeshifts, no equipment, scarcely any 
support, and no permanent benefit given the girls 
whom they induce to enter those places. Supposing 
we grant that each of these homes can properly and 
adequately care for all the girls admitted, we are 
still confronted with an appalling situation—they 
could care for only five thousand out of five hundred 
thousand, or one out of every hundred, that could 
even be sheltered, and that does not include the 


208 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


thousands of betrayed girls who become unmarried 
mothers each year. Viewing these facts we are con¬ 
strained to believe this Christian (?) country cares 
very little for its girl life. My research further dis¬ 
closes that for each fallen girl there are not less than 
from ten to twenty fallen men and boys. I confine 
myself to the class living public lives of impurity. 
Over and above all this are the public morals of 
what is called the ‘four hundred* where married 
women and married men live unchaste lives, and this 
class, through their indecent dress and conduct, con¬ 
tribute to the degradation of the great middle class. 

“In my judgment, after making as thorough in¬ 
vestigation as possible, there is no use in expecting 
much from the churches of the country. I did not 
investigate all the churches, but the great leading 
denominations have very little interest in the prob¬ 
lems of the lost girl. Take Methodism, with its seven 
or eight million members, this great progressive de¬ 
nomination has three homes for restoration of out¬ 
cast girls and these three are in the Southern wing 
of that Church. 

“The Baptists, numbering possibly eight million, 
have, so far as I can discover, no home for the re¬ 
covery of unfortunate girls in America. The Pres¬ 
byterian, the Christian and the Episcopal Churches 
have made no provision whatever with reference to 
this class of girls. The Salvation Army is doing a 
little, there are some eighty Crittenton Homes in 


PLANNING THE SCARLET EMPIRE 


209 


various parts of the world, and the Catholic Church 
has about twenty-five or thirty which are called 
Houses or Homes of the Good Shepherd, but not at 
all adequate to care for one fiftieth of the Catholic 
girls that need shelter. When girls leave these 
places, after having remained there from one to 
three years, there is virtually no future for them 
because of the present Social System standards. 
Some of them advocate the girls disposing of their 
babies, which seems the most plausible for several 
reasons; first, it relieves the girl of the burden and 
responsibility of caring for the child, and enables 
her to go forth, in some communities, to cover her 
past and start anew. Second, it provides some kind 
of a home for the child where it will be relieved, in 
a measure, of the odium of its mother’s sin. This, 
of course, provides a plausible disposition of the 
baby if it chances to fall into proper hands, which 
is a fearful risk, for few people can or do care for 
a waif as they would for their own offspring. 

“Over against these arguments favoring giving 
babies away, I wish to place a few facts gathered 
from the meager source of information at hand. 
Medical science informs us that mother’s breast is 
the safe and natural place for a baby to be fed. The 
mortality of bottle fed babies is alarming. The 
present Social System pursues the course of least 
resistance and provides for the utter ruin of both 
the mother and child who unfortunately bear the 


210 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


mark of scarlet. The four of us, in this room, are 
the victims of the Social System that placed on us 
the brand of the scarlet letter. I am twenty-three 
years of age and have suffered more than an 
ordinary person does in a lifetime. 

“A baby boy was tom from my arms by force 
and today I know not whether he is in vicious or 
honorable hands. That very thought haunts me by 
day and night. You women know exactly how I 
feel, for you feel the same. I have just secured a 
copy of the partial report of the Vice Commission 
of New York City. This report declared that a 
large number of immoral women begin their career 
of shame WHEN MERE CHILDREN. It further 
states that in every large city, girls who have been 
attracted into immoral lives, making up a very large 
per cent of the vicious characters, began the life 
BEFORE THEY WERE OLD ENOUGH TO BE 
RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR CONDUCT. In the 
face of that startling announcement we have the 
blood freezing fact before us that a number of states 
provide, by law, that their girls may consent to im¬ 
moral lives at the tender ages of ten and twelve 
years. This great country, by law and practice 
through the Social System, has become one immense 
slaughter house of girlish purity. 

“It is needless to go further into this subject at 
this time. I have come to agree with my friend, Miss 
Dickson, who declared: ‘The only hope for the re- 


PLANNING THE SCAELET EMPIRE 


211 


covery of the United States is a social revolution/ 
and I have invited you to meet here today to consider 
a plan for the organization of a nation-wide move¬ 
ment for the purpose of destroying the present 
Social System with all its degrees and ramifications. 
I know you three women and know you are desperate 
over the conditions forced upon you. We will have a 
hard fight, and a long fight, because we will be be¬ 
tween two factions—the vice lords and the public. 

“I, like you, have tried to overcome my one mis¬ 
take, but the harder I tried the deeper I was drawn 
into the meshes of the System until I decided I would 
go in and fight the game to the finish. When one 
tries to get up there are plenty of forces to draw one 
back, but if one lets loose and drifts with the current 
there is no opposition, so I am going to appear to 
drift with the tide and strike from the inside. Are 
you with me?” 

“Have you thought out any special plan of oper¬ 
ation?” asked Miss Dickson. 

“Yes, the first thing to do is to get names of those 
on whom we can count. This will require time and 
effort, because so many of the girls are such abject 
slaves to the men who live off their blood earned 
dollars. 

“During my limited experience in the district life 
there were girls who came running into the house 
and threw themselves into my arms for protection 
and sympathy, girls who were forced by the public 


212 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


to remain in that life. I believe this class of girls, 
together with the babies of scarlet birth should be 
gathered into centers and trained to help crush the 
system that made them the scorn of their fellow 
beings. Doubtless we will find that the betrayed 
girls, whom we can catch before they are forced into 
the district, will be our strongest allies in this under¬ 
taking.” 

“I agree with you, and, as I have often told you, 
there will have to be a reconstruction of society be¬ 
fore any permanent good can be obtained. Yes, I 
am ready for the fray,” replied Miss Dickson. 

The four women who were so deeply concerned 
about the social status of America, were women who 
had suffered the loss of all things, women whose 
hearts had been wrenched and torn by the Social 
System that sends a betrayed girl to perdition and 
her betrayer to congress. They had drunk, to the 
bitter dregs, the cup placed to their mouths by de¬ 
ceptive hands, and held there by force, until all that 
life held dear was gone. 

The younger woman, as the reader may under¬ 
stand, was Violet Verner, known as Lucile Lloyd. 
One of the others was Miss Mae Dickson, proprie¬ 
tress of the Star Mansion in Dallas, Texas. The 
other two were women who had been robbed and 
left to die in the desert of desolation. One of them 
came from New Orleans where she was known as 
Miss Maud Hartman, president of “The Club,” one of 


PLANNING THE SCARLET EMPIRE 213 

the gorgeously furnished resorts in that city which 
was located to the advantage of the particular pat¬ 
rons who wished to visit it without being detected. 

Miss Hartman, who was educated and attractive 
in personal appearance, said: “When Miss Lloyd 
approached me on the subject of a nation-wide effort 
to abolish the Social System that had cost me my all, 
it staggered my mind, but the more I reflected over 
the subject the more I became enthused and when 
she requested me to meet her here, I readily con¬ 
sented. 

“Miss Lloyd spoke of the districts being controlled 
by individuals, or small groups of individuals. In 
New Orleans this is true. I brought a copy of the 
'Blue Book’ of that city which is issued by the man 
who controls the district in New Orleans. He has 
just been nominated to the State Legislature. This 
book, as you can see, is a guide to what he terms 
‘Storyville,’ and contains advertisements of all the 
important places, including the names and addresses 
of some four hundred white and colored girls who 
are inmates of the district. These girls are not all 
held with physical force by any means; some are, 
but they are all kept there by the steel chains of the 
public will as expressed in its Social System. If any 
plan can be formulated by which this System can be 
abolished, I am in favor of it.” 

The fourth woman had been introduced to the 
others by Miss Lloyd as Madame Johnson, owner of 


214 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


“The Palace,” Washington, D. C. “The Palace,” 
added Miss Lloyd, “is about one and a half squares 
from the United States post office on Pennsylvania 
Avenue.” 

Madame Johnson was a woman of remarkable 
executive ability, a reader of humanity and a danger¬ 
ous person to the public in her present position. “The 
Palace” was so conducted that United States Sena¬ 
tors and Congressmen felt safe in dropping in there 
to relieve the monotony of their self-sacrificing serv¬ 
ice for the public good. Diplomats and prominent 
world characters knew of the Palace. Madame John¬ 
son had resigned herself to the inevitable and was 
“picking” some of the “golden geese” that came her 
way. 

“I am for any movement that will give me a chance 
to strike the hellish gang that has made me what 
I am, and is making thousands of other unsuspecting 
young girls its pitiful tools, with which to gratify 
its lust and greed. My life, my energy, my all, will 
be devoted to such a move,” said Madame Johnson. 

“Let us see how much cash we can command to 
start with,” said Lucile. “I will advance twenty 
thousand dollars, if each of you will advance ten 
thousand; that will give us fifty thousand dollars 
to begin on. With this fifty thousand dollars we 
will incorporate the Public Promotion Corporation 
which will be the financial organization of the move¬ 
ment. Are you in favor of this plan?” 

All agreed. 


PLANNING THE SCARLET EMPIRE 215 

“The first thing to do is to elect officers for this 
corporation. We will need a president, vice presi¬ 
dent, secretary and treasurer.” They proceeded to 
elect officers. Lucile was chosen president, Madame 
Johnson, vice president; Maud Hartman, secretary, 
and Mae Dickson, treasurer. 

“The secretary will take such legal steps as are 
necessary to incorporate this organization in any 
state that will give the best protection and the 
largest opportunity- for the accomplishment :of its 
object,” instructed the president. 

“With your permission, the chair will appoint 
needed committees for the work in hand at present. 

“There being no objections the chair will appoint 
Miss Dickson as a committee to search out proper 
locations for the gathering of the unmarried 
mothers, together with their babies and other chil¬ 
dren of the scarlet mark, where they may be trained 
for the work in hand. I think we will need not less 
than five or six centers for this branch of the work. 

“Miss Hartman will act as committee to gather 
information regarding the men of this country who 
are contributing to the downfall of young girls. I 
mean the higher ups. 

“Madame Johnson will devise ways and means for 
gaining financial control of all the vice districts in 
the United States, through which we will take over 
the financial ownership of the breweries, distilleries, 
tobacco interests and other like trusts of the country. 


216 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


Our policy will be to let these concerns conduct their 
various interests as wickedly as they desire until we 
are ready, with our revolution, to strike a telling and 
permanent blow. Working, as we will, from the 
inside, the underside, we shall have every advantage. 

“The very wickedness of the vice districts will 
occasionally bring forth public attacks but we must 
keep out of sight. We will open our headquarters 
in New York City, and have branches in Chicago, 
Washington, New Orleans, Denver and San Fran¬ 
cisco. Our agents will gather girls from all over 
the country who will be instructed and sent forth as 
missionaries of the corporation to bring other girls 
to the training centers. 

“Boys and girls will be taught useful occupations 
which will be what the public beholds of the work, 
but in connection with each training center will be 
located a secret arsenal for the gathering, and stor¬ 
ing of arms and munitions for the revolution to 
purge this nation. By getting control of the various 
public institutions of vice, we can place our special 
agents in them to secure information about every 
man and boy who visits those places, as well as the 
women who are so hardened that they will not dis¬ 
continue a life of immorality. I think I have given 
you sufficient information for the present. If there 
are no questions you wish to ask, and if there are 
no objections, we will stand adjourned to the call of 
the chair.” 


CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 


THE UNION PACIFIC HOLD-UP. 


O NE morning in November the following re¬ 
markable letter was received by a high official 
of the Union Pacific Railway: 


Omaha, Nebraska, 
November 10, 1919. 

To the Federal Manager, 

Union Pacific Railway Co., 

Omaha, Nebraska. 

Dear Sir: 

This is to inform you that on the 15th of this month I shall be 
compelled to collect certain sums of money from some of the 
passengers on the Overland Limited No. 1, en route to California, 
and will present my claims between Sidney, Nebraska, and Lara¬ 
mie, Wyoming, and will probably board the train at North Platte. 

Kindly give my best regards to your chief of detectives and tell 
him this will be a most excellent opportunity for him and his as¬ 
sociates to secure the modest reward you and others are offering 
for my apprehension. 

Regretting very much the necessity which compels me to call 
upon your passengers for contributions to the cause I represent, 
and wishing you to be relieved of all responsibility for any serious 
results arising therefrom, I am, 

Yours truly, 

The Lone Highwayman. 

When No. 1 pulled into North Platte a group of 
the keenest detectives on the line were on board, 
and each person entering the train was closely 
scrutinized by the officers and trainmen, but not a 
single person boarding the train could in any way 
be associated with the outlaw. As the train rolled 
out of the station, a careful watch was kept and the 
guards felt perfectly sure the Lone Highwayman 
had made one flash and would not present himself 
on that train. 


217 


218 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


A little, dried-up woman, bent with rheumatism, 
had attracted some attention in getting properly 
located in her drawing room in the rear sleeper, but 
in spite of her aches and pains the trainmen suc¬ 
ceeded in assisting her to get comfortably settled. 

Scarcely had she dismissed the porter when he 
was called again and she wanted to know if he would 
please bring her a drink of water, explaining, “My 
rheumatism pesters me considerable these here 
chilly days an’ I cain’t git around so well as in my 
younger days. In them days I never asked no one 
no odds, but it’s differn’t now.” 

When she had received the water and the porter 
was gone she became disturbed and recalled him. “Ef 
this here room gits cold, kin you warm it?” she 
asked. “Would you, Mr. Porter, please git that 
cushion out of that there bag and put it under my 
feet? My rheumatiz won’t let me stoop very well.” 

At last she was settled and the porter made his 
exit with a sigh of relief. Later he told the Pullman 
conductor, “That little ole woman shore is some 
troublesome. If her rheumatizics gits any wus we’ll 
most sartinly have to tote her off dis train.” 

A gentleman passed the old lady’s room and she 
accosted him with, “Mister, be there a doctor on this 
train? If my rheumatiz gits any worse in the night 
I allow as how I’ll have to have a doctor.” 

The gentleman, to get rid of her, replied that he 
would see and let her know. 


THE UNION PACIFIC HOLD-UP 


219 


Seemingly all was well for the space of a few 
minutes when, “Porter! Porter!” rang through the 
car. 

“Dar she go agin. She am de pesticatinest pusson 
I most ebber seed,” mumbled the porter as he has¬ 
tened to her assistance. 

When he arrived she wanted to know if he would 
help her into the observation compartment. 

“You all liable to get in a draft out dar,” he in¬ 
formed her to keep from having to help her out. 

“Well, I need a little fresh air an’ guess I’ll risk it 
a while,” she said. When properly seated, with pil¬ 
lows and props to ease her “rheumatiz,” she became 
interested in the spirited conversation between a 
group of men, the only persons present, who were 
discussing the Lone Highwayman. As she listened 
she became alarmed, and wanted to know if there 
was danger of the train being robbed as she had 
some important papers in her possession that be¬ 
longed to her nephew which she guessed she would 
go and hide so that rascal could not find them. She 
painfully arose and hobbled towards her stateroom, 
and just as she passed through the door a cry rang 
out, a cry of distress which came from the rear 
vestibule. All the men turned from the old lady to 
see what was the trouble, but soon turned again as 
they heard the ringing command, “Hands up, gen¬ 
tlemen,” and found themselves confronted by the 


220 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


scarlet-masked Lone Highwayman who stood erect 
with an automatic in his hand. 

“Sorry, I am compelled to disturb you gentlemen, 
but necessity demands that I ask for a contribution 
at this time. Mr. Hobbs, you are the chief detective 
for this line so I will ask you to kindly pass your hat 
and take the offering from these gentlemen, but 
please do not fail to drop in your own contribution,” 
mockingly ordered the strange man holding them up. 
“I thank you,” he said, “for this offering, but as it 
is insufficient to meet my present demands, I shall 
be compelled to request five :of you gentlemen to 
sign checks for larger sums.” He had stepped in¬ 
side and stood so as to have command of the 
entrance. The men were called forward one by one 
and ordered to sign checks for amounts ranging 
from five hundred to one million dollars, and each 
man was given a slip of paper informing him that 
no interference with the cashing of those checks 
would be expected, and as the men glanced at the 
message on the slip they each mentally decided the 
checks would be honored all right. 

Those men were all connected with Big Business, 
and each of them was living a dual life. 

When the checks and valuables were carefully 
tucked away the.Lone Highwayman ordered all to 
pass over near the front entrance, then he stepped 
to the rear door with a strange looking grip in one 
hand, which he dropped on the floor, while opening 


THE UNION PACIFIC HOLD-UP 


221 


the door, then picked up and mockingly bowed to 
the men. He ordered them to retire to their berths, 
as he backed into the rear vestibule and disappeared 
into the night. The old woman with the “rheumatiz” 
had also left the train. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
VERNER LODGE. 

Solitude, the safeguard of mediocrity, 
is to genius the stern friend, the cold 
obscure shelter where moult the wings 
which will bear it farther than suns 
and stars.—Emerson. 

I N a valley, from whence the lofty snow-covered 
peaks of the marvelous Rocky Mountains could 
be viewed, Violet purchased a lovely little ranch to 
be her mountain retreat. A few horses, some cows, 
sheep, goats poultry and burros constituted the 
stock. Two cottages were on the place, one of which 
she furnished for herself where she installed a good 
library, an office and appropriate rooms for retire¬ 
ment and comfort. The other was for Henry and 
Martha, who would remain and look after the ranch 
during Violet’s absence. The two faithful servants 
were delighted with their surroundings. 

To the west of the Lodge was Shoshone River, 
bordered with stately cottonwoods, beyond which 
the mountains rise in solitary grandeur. One of the 
prominent attractions in the distance was Castle 
Rock, having the appearance of a castle, with towers, 
turrets, bastions and balconies. Some five miles to 
the northeast, Table Mountain towered its hoary 
head among thfi clouds. 

The lodge was watered by a clear, cold mountain 
stream that laughed and sang all the year round. 

222 


VERNER LODGE 


223 


When Violet concluded it was no use for her to 
attempt any further effort to return to the society 
from which she had been so ruthlessly thrust, she 
decided to devote her life to the cause of the outcast 
girl and her child. To mix and mingle with the world 
constantly, is to become absorbed with its ideas, 
forms and fashions. She intended to do what others 
were not doing—work from the inside, the under 
side, the nether side, as Miss Dickson had suggested. 

To have a place of retreat, when too tired and 
worn to continue her work, was the motive that 
prompted her in locating her home away from the 
rush and press of the great big, hurly-burly world. 
Had she searched the country over no more desirable 
location could have been found. Just a few miles 
from Cody and yet far enough away to put her in 
the deep solitude of the heart of nature. Here she 
could come for rest and recuperation. That Henry 
and Martha might not be worried, she just told 
them she was traveling, and in search of her baby. 

After putting the place in shape for occupancy and 
resting a few days, Violet left to be gone for some 
months. Most of that year was spent in the great 
cities of the United States. Vice conditions were in¬ 
vestigated and a general survey of the field was 
taken. Late in June she returned suddenly to Vemer 
Lodge, where she found Henry and Martha in their 
glory. An occasional letter came to them from their 
employer, but she did not inform them of her in- 


224 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


tended return. Henry was out on the ranch some¬ 
where, Martha had everything spick and span, for 
she had been telling Henry they might look “f o’ Miss 
Vi’let now mos’ any time.” 

Martha was sitting by the window when Violet 
arrived. Her joy at seeing her mistress was un¬ 
bounded. She hurried around and prepared just 
such a meal as only a good Southern negress can fix 
when provided with the means. Martha succeeded 
in locating Henry. By the time Violet had slipped 
into something cool and comfortable, she heard the 
invitation to dinner, which was entirely acceptable, 
for the long ride had made her hungry. Martha had 
the whitest linen :on the table, the brightest silver¬ 
ware, and a meal that would tempt a king. Fried 
chicken, hot biscuits, several kinds of preserves, 
salads, nut cake, chocolate custard, fresh strawber¬ 
ries from her own garden and pure Jersey cream, 
cold from the springhouse. Henry and Martha kept 
up a flow of words while Violet did justice to the 
excellent meal. 

Henry was dispatched to Cody to bring the bag¬ 
gage. When he returned with two trunks, a big box 
and some packages, it looked as though Violet had 
come to stay. She had brought a typewriter, a num¬ 
ber of books on current topics, and some valuable 
presents for her two servants. 

Three months were spent at the Lodge. Violet 
usually devoted her forenoons with her books and in 


VERNER LODGE 


225 


her office; the afternoons, she went to the moun¬ 
tains hunting or fishing. While she was at home 
the table never wanted for fresh speckled trout right 
out of the cold water from the mountain streams. 
Her favorite horse grew fond of his young mistress, 
and was trained to come at her call. He was a strong, 
intelligent animal. One special trip was made into 
the depths of the mountains, Henry and Martha ac¬ 
companying her. 

When the time came for her to leave, Martha and 
Henry went with her to Cody, and brushed away 
their tears as the train pulled out with Violet sitting 
at the window of her sleeper waving to them. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 

CAPTAIN CLAUDE CLIFTON. 

'Tis said that absence conquers love; 

But, oh! believe it not, 

I've tried, alas! its power to prove, 

But thou art not forgot. 

—Thomas. 

W HEN Claude Clifton returned from South 
America he met his old friend, Colonel Roger 
Mills, in San Antonio, Texas. Mills’ regiment had 
been ordered to the Philippine Islands. He needed 
a chaplain for his regiment and Claude accepted the 
appointment. On their way out they went through 
Colorado Springs, where they stopped over long 
enough to visit the places of interest in the wonder¬ 
ful Playground Country. From there they passed 
through Salt Lake City and sailed, via San Francisco. 
Claude and Colonel Mills were intimate boyhood 
friends. Mills left home while quite young to work 
on a ranch in the West and from there had entered 
the army. His pluck and daring won steady pro¬ 
motion. 

Claude very quickly won his way into the heart 
of the regiment, for he was utterly indifferent to 
danger, and followed the boys anywhere he could 
be of service. He was a practical minister and be¬ 
lieved God was a very personal and compassionate 
Friend. Claude often told the men, “God wants you 
to do your best wherever you are placed but do not 
226 


CAPTAIN CLAUDE CLIFTON 


227 


think that any deed of heroism or human achieve¬ 
ment will win His favor. There is just one way to 
please and only one door of access to Him. You 
must come in the name of Christ and entirely depend 
on His merit, and not your own. Simple faith in 
Christ will save you, and that alone.” 

The men loved this fearless, sympathetic minister 
who seemed to know the way to their heart sorrows 
and troubles. If he ever had any troubles he kept 
them to himself, and yet some of the men believed 
there was a deep sorrow eating in his heart. The 
Chaplain had learned the secret of abiding in the 
Lord and knew where to go with his personal griefs. 

Often he would take his Bible, stroll far out of 
camp and remain until late at night. He usually re¬ 
turned in the best of spirits. How little the men 
knew of the battles that brave man fought for their 
benefit. Alone with God he settled his own sorrow, 
then fought and obtained help for others. So brave, 
gentle and kind was he that many of the young sol¬ 
diers came to him with their love affairs. Wise 
counsel he gave them, and many a soldier lad owed 
his good morals to this faithful minister of the 
Gospel of Christ, which is the gospel of good, com¬ 
mon sense. 

The years passed on. Colonel Mills had his family 
with him, a wife, and an only daughter, who was an 
accomplished young lady with devout inclinations. 
Many evenings were pleasantly spent in the home of 


228 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


his colonel, from which Claude invariably returned 
to his room sadly melancholy. When alone he sighed 
and reflected: “Why have I never loved or cared for 
any woman? Why does my heart cling to my child 
love—Violet Verner? 0 Violet, my life could have 
been happy with you forever. Perhaps, though, had 
we married, my life would not have been brought in 
contact with the Master.” He drew from his pocket 
a small cloth bound volume of the Holy Bible. “Lit¬ 
tle Book,” he said, “You have given me consolation 
in many a dark hour.” Opening it he drew from 
between its leaves a small tin-type picture of two 
children, himself and Violet. Long he sat and looked 
at the pictured faces. “Those were happy days of in¬ 
nocent childhood. I wonder where Violet is. Does 
she ever think of me?” 


CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 

THE WAGES OF SIN. 

With eyelids tearful and red, 

In rags scarcely hiding his shame, 

On the cold pavement stone, sat a driveling wretch, 
Resting his tottering frame. 

Want, and sorrow, and crime, 

His bosom with anguish had wrung, 

And in trembling tones, that once had been clear, 

The “Song of a Drunkard” he sung. 

—. Collins. 

O NE dark, drizzly night, after delivering an ad¬ 
dress on the special missionary work to which 
he was devoted, Claude Clifton was returning to his 
hotel in the city. As he turned the corner, he almost 
ran over a man crumpled up on the sidewalk singing 
a maudlin song. Clifton bent over the poor wretch 
to apologize and was surprised to hear his name 
called by the drunken lips of the man in rags and 
as he struggled to his feet, he said: “Hang my cats, 
if this ain’t Claude Clifton of ye olden days. How 
be you, ole pard? Don’tcha know me?” 

“No, my man, you have the best of me, I must con¬ 
fess that I do not recall that we have ever met be¬ 
fore/’ replied Clifton. 

“Sure, yer know me, I’m Richard W’eeler, the best 
shot in oP Texash, except Violet Verner, th’ purtiest 
gurl ’tever lived.” 

At the mention of those two names, Claude Clifton 
looked sharply into the drunkard’s face, which re- 
229 


230 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


laxed under his gaze, and he was able to recognize 
the man before him. He scarcely believed his eyes; 
was this his boyhood acquaintance, did he know any¬ 
thing of Violet Verner—why was her name on his 
lips? These thoughts surged through his mind like 
a flash. Then he addressed the man before him: 
“Yes, Richard, I remember you; what can I do 
for you?” 

The drunken man steadied himself, straightened 
up a little and said: “You she, Clifton, ol’ pard, I’m 
under the weather. Can’t you let me have a quarter 
to get me a bed?” 

Clifton took him by the arm and said: “Come, 
Richard, I will get you a place to spend the night.” 
He led him down the street to a lodging house, paid 
for a night’s lodging and put him to bed, promising 
to call in the morning to see him. 

As Clifton went to his room that night there was 
a swarm of memories buzzing about his head, and 
he sat for hours thinking of the past. Since his re¬ 
turn to America from the Philippine Islands he had 
been constantly on the road, filling engagements in 
the eastern states and had not been South. He was 
surprised to run onto Richard Wheeler in an eastern 
city, and in the condition he found him. He remem¬ 
bered that Richard did drink a little when a young 
man, but never thought of him ever becoming a sot. 
“Richard spoke of Violet tonight. I wonder if he 
knows the history of her downfall and what became 


THE WAGES OF SIN 


231 


of her?” he thought. “Poor girl, how I wish I could 
have spared her the sorrow she must have suffered.” 

Glancing at his watch, he noted it was two o’clock 
and time to be in bed. About ten the next morning 
he called at the lodging house where he had left 
Richard and found him up and almost sober, but 
craving a drink. They went out for breakfast, then 
to the barber shop and on to Clifton’s room. Richard 
•was not very talkative, but rather inclined to be 
abashed and humiliated. During the conversation, 
however, he told of his own life but carefully omitted 
the mention of Violet Verner’s name. 

He told of a difficulty he had with a couple of 
men whom he killed in a fit of passion. “This,” he 
said, “so grieved and worried my father that al¬ 
though I was cleared, he never recovered from the 
effects of the shock, but sickened and died. A large 
concourse attended his funeral and just as they were 
preparing to lower the casket a very unusual thing 
occurred. A dark cloud came up suddenly and the 
lightning played around my father’s metal casket 
for over a half an hour, so that the people were 
driven back from the grave and could not conclude 
the funeral service, until nearly sundown. 

“My father’s death was a great shock to me and 
I took to drinking more than I had. While in the 
city :of Washington, closing up some of my father’s 
affairs, I met a most beautiful and accomplished 
young lady with whom I fell desperately in love. I 


232 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


managed to win her heart and hand. Previous to 
this, while at home in Waco, I became acquainted 
with a Miss Minnie Wells, a very attractive young 
girl of seventeen who was one of those magnetic, 
dark-eyed beauties you so often read about. She 
played, sang and painted. She was quick of wit, 
bright of mind and a good conversationalist in Eng¬ 
lish, French and German. As I had studied those 
languages we became quite chummy. Fully a dozen 
of the most influential young fellows in Waco be¬ 
came madly infatuated with this girl. Through my 
social and financial position I managed to get just 
a little ahead of the other fellows and became very 
familiar with her. Of course I had to engage myself 
to marry her, and really I did think I would marry 
her, but to my surprise, I contracted a terrible 
disease from her. Infuriated at being so deceived, 
I went to her for an explanation; she laughed in my 
face and said: ‘You are just one of a group I am get¬ 
ting my revenge on. I was led astray by just such 
a scoundrel as you, forced into a house of ill fame 
from which I was rescued by some good people, who 
were ostracized by their friends for the kindness 
shown me. I remained with them three days and 
cried all the time I was there because I saw there was 
no real chance for me. As I left those good people, 
I threw my arms around the neck of the lady and 
thanked her for the kindness I had received in her 
home, and told her I could not and would not let her 


THE WAGES OF SIN 


233 


suffer for my sins, then I ground my heel on the 
floor and swore I would have revenge on every dirty, 
low-down scoundrel who w T ould take advantage of a 
girl. You are one of the crowd to feel the effects of 
my vengeance.’ 

“Later I learned that every one of those twelve 
fellows had been caught in the same manner and 
some of them never recovered but died of the hor¬ 
rible disease contracted from that girl. I went to 
Hot Springs and was pronounced cured. Went back 
to the young lady in Washington. I knew I had 
never loved before. We were married in her home. 
I purchased a lovely suburban place and we were 
supremely happy. A baby came into our home, but 
with the coming of the baby its mother died. My 
grief was terrible. I felt that I could not stand it. 
I was dazed and crazed for days. My affection then 
centered in my bright baby boy. Around his life my 
heart entwined. He had the gentle, loving disposi¬ 
tion of his beautiful mother, and grew to be a hand¬ 
some boy with his grandfather Wheeler’s intellect. 
My whole soul was wrapped up in him. I nursed 
him in infancy and tutored him in childhood. He 
was the idol :of my heart. Through the influence of 
his lovely mother I had dispensed with all my wicked 
habits, and I continued living a temperate life for 
the benefit of my boy. I had been admitted to the 
bar and was enjoying a good practice. 

“When my boy was twelve years of age, and as 


234 


BEHIND THE SCAELET MASK 


bright as a dollar, with the very best prospects of 
fulfilling all my dreams in his behalf, he was taken 
sick. I had remained single with no thought of 
seeking any one to take the place of my departed 
darling. The doctor was called in and a trained 
nurse employed, but the lad continued to grow 
worse. I took him to a skin and blood specialist who 
informed me the child had syphilis. My soul was 
seized with terror. The doctor asked me if I had 
ever had the disease and when I replied in the affirm¬ 
ative, he said it was the sin of the father coming to 
the child. I took my boy to Hot Springs but they 
could do nothing for him. Next to New York and 
on to Europe to consult the greatest specialists on 
earth. I spent thousands of dollars, but to no avail. 
While the doctors operated on my poor suffering boy 
I walked the floor in agony, my hair became pre¬ 
maturely gray. 0 God, how I suffered! Every 
groan of that child was a saw ripping through my 
soul. He was helped but when I returned to America 
with him he was so deformed he did not want any of 
his friends to see him, so we traveled until in awful 
agony he died, the victim of his father’s folly. I 
took to drink, and today, Claude, I am a wreck and 
don’t care what becomes of me. My home is gone, 
my fortune is gone, my health is gone, and I am just 
drifting around taking what people give me.” 

He finished his sad life story, dropped his head 
in his hands and groaned. 


THE WAGES OF SIN 


235 


In every human life there is some good, but often 
the good is so submerged by the evil that the good 
lies undiscovered by the world. Richard was a man 
that might have been exceedingly useful, had his 
life been directed in the proper channels. There was 
much good in him, hidden beneath the evil that so 
long predominated in his younger life. For a mo¬ 
ment he sat thus, then looked up and asked: “Claude, 
what have you been doing and where have you 
been?” 

“When I left Waco,” replied Claude, “I went to 
South America for a few years, then returned and 
met my old friend Roger Mills, who had been pro¬ 
moted to a colonelship in the army. He was prepar¬ 
ing to go with his regiment to the Philippine Islands 
and invited me to accept the position of chaplain in 
his regiment. I accepted and went to the Islands, 
where I remained until a few weeks ago, when I 
returned to the States on a lecturing tour. You see, 
Richard, I professed faith in Christianity on my 
last trip with my father out of Waco and devoted 
my life to the work of the ministry. Now, old fellow, 
I want you to stop drinking, straighten up, give your 
heart to God and be the kind of man you are capable 
of being.” 

The poor fellow shook his head sadly and said: 
“It’s no use, Claude, I’m down and out, and ought to 
be, for the way I have acted and lived. One thing 
I will promise you, I’ll stop drinking, for I’ve got 


236 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


enough; there’s nothing in it—here’s my hand, I’m 
through.” 

The men shook hands. “Richard, last night you 
spoke of Violet Verner, you remember I introduced 
you to her, and I thought a great deal of her when 
I was a boy. What ever became of her?” asked 
Claude. 

Wheeler dropped his eyes to the floor, for he dared 
not look into the honest face of the man he had so 
wronged, and answered: “I don’t know, Claude, the 
last I heard of her she was in Dallas, Texas. You 
see I haven’t been in Texas for several years.” 

With this the men separated. Claude took him by 
the hand and said: “I am going to pray for you, 
Richard, and I will expect you to make good your 
promise; goodbye.” 

Claude went about his ministry until the United 
States entered the World War. He was among the 
first to go to the front with the American forces 
and remained at the front until the armistice was 
signed. 

Richard did straighten up and quit drinking. By 
sheer strength of his brilliant mind he soon began 
to prosper. His law office in a Western city was 
sought by those in legal trouble and so well did he 
conduct their business that, when he announced for 
District Judge, he was elected by a large majority. 
The public is ready and willing to f orgive a man and 
to honor him with offices of trust. Judge Wheeler 


THE WAGES OF SIN 


237 


soon won for himself the distinction of being a stern 
but just judge. His sober life caused him to com¬ 
mand the respect of the reform element. He flesh- 
ened so that if Claude Clifton or any of his former 
acquaintances had met him they would not have 
recognized him. 

When he entered the court room there was a 
hushed respect paid him, and as he sat on the bench 
he was regarded with deepest consideration. He was 
a white-haired, handsome, fearless officer of the law 
and commanded the respectful attention of those 
who came into his court. Those who knew him best 
declared there was something in his past life which 
haunted him, but in the West men learn to leave 
other men's pasts alone. The stern, just judge went 
in and out of the court room, to his club, to his office, 
and among his acquaintances with never a reference 
to his early life. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 

THE SCARLET EMPIRE. 

Westward the course of Empire takes its way. 

The four first acts already past, 

The fifth shall close the drama with the day; 
Time’s noblest offspring is the last. 

—Bishop Berkeley. 

S LOWLY, surely, with invisible tread there silent¬ 
ly marched onto American soil a secret empire. 
Into the land of the free and the home of the brave, 
where freedom had used its liberty to enslave multi¬ 
plied thousands of helpless girls, the Scarlet Empire, 
with its sign of the Scarlet Mask, arose. The Amer¬ 
ican people had played with the sacred things of God 
and had flippantly and wilfully drunk the cup of 
selfishness, a cup that gave bright handsome boys to 
the harlot and sold sweet, trusting girls, that the 
citizenship might drink the cup of devils, drink the 
cup, and be destroyed. They drank, they danced, 
they divorced, they laughed in the face of God. They 
deserted the place of prayer and thronged the movies 
and other places of worldly pleasure. They fed on 
things carnal. Like the Babylonians of old who 
drank from golden vessels in dishonor of God, they 
gulped down Satan’s concoction, and at midnight an 
enemy stealthily marched through what was believed 
to be the impossible way and DEATH was at hand. 
A minister presented the better way which saved 
the nation being drenched in blood. 


238 


THE SCARLET EMPIRE 


239 


The Scarlet Empire, formed of broken hearts and 
blasted lives, grew into a peril that would have made 
eunuchs of millions of men and would have burned 
into their foreheads, with red-hot irons, the sign of 
the Scarlet Mask. That would have put voluntary 
harlots, who refused to reform, to wearing the phys¬ 
ical mark of the Scarlet Mask and sent them to work 
at honest toil as menials for the nation. 

Millions of dollars were collected through the vice 
syndicates by the agents of the Scarlet Empire, and 
expended in raising and equipping an army that 
was ready to strike, when America entered the 
World War and drafted tens of thousands of the 
trained soldiers who went to the front, the agents of 
the Scarlet Empire. They returned hardened vet¬ 
erans as ready to give their lives to free American 
girls from the brutal slave markets, as they had 
been to deliver little Belgian and French girls from 
the cruel heel of the Hun. 

While mustering her army the Federal Govern¬ 
ment had given the Scarlet Empire an additional 
reason for the launching of a revolution of freedom. 
When the Government drafted its men and marched 
them to the cantonments it was discovered that thou¬ 
sands of them were the victims of impure diseases 
which disqualified them for service at the front. The 
nation was facing the harvest of crime it had been 
sowing through the licensed liquor traffic and 
through the traffic in girls. As a nation the United 


240 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


States had spent more for the conservation of her 
forests than she paid for the protection of her little 
girls. She had invested far more to cure hogs of 
the cholera than to restore the white slaves of her 
dominion. When she faced the problem of diseased 
soldiers, she never repented one iota for her devilish 
crimes against girlhood, neither did she attempt to 
assist the hundreds of thousands of outcast girls to 
honorable lives. She never mentioned that these 
girls were human beings or that they had souls. The 
one and only thought the Government expressed was 
to PROTECT THE SOLDIERS FROM THE DAN¬ 
GER OF THE HARLOT. To do this, an order was 
issued to CLOSE THE BROTHELS near the can¬ 
tonments. The girls of the brothels who had been 
made outcasts by the unnatural and unreasonable 
legislation of the country, that DAMNED THE BE¬ 
TRAYED GIRLS and PROMOTED THE BOYS 
WHO BETRAYED THEM; these same outcast 
girls who had been forced, in many instances, to dis¬ 
tricts of vice by the legal authorities, were now 
grabbed up from the streets, where they had been 
driven by the government of their country, and 
placed in insanitary stockades to be treated a few 
days or weeks for the diseases that had been forced 
upon them by the American Social System. They 
were not treated for the benefit of the girls them¬ 
selves, but FOR THE EXCLUSIVE BENEFIT OF 
THE MEN WHO HAD MADE OUTCASTS OF 


THE SCARLET EMPIRE 


241 


THE GIRLS. A sad travesty on civilization. What 
was the result by actual facts furnished by the Fed¬ 
eral Government itself? These girls and women, 
thus treated, were turned out as mad as hornets, to 
shift as best they could. Can you blame them for 
striking back? Had not their own country forced 
them to become harlots? Had not that same coun¬ 
try herded them into vice districts for no other 
professed purpose than to protect the same public 
from them, that had wrecked them? 

Do you blame them for striking back? Did they 
have any home, God, or country? Had they not been 
robbed of all? Do you blame them for striking 
back? Did they strike back? Ask the government. 

In the second draft it was discovered that more 
boys and men were inoculated with the virus of 
syphilis than in the first draft. How do you account 
for it? These robbed, spoiled, hunted, hated, driven, 
tortured cattle of the American Social System had 
struck back. You are cited to one case alone. A case 
the Federal Government furnished facts concerning. 
A hunted, driven woman was picked up in a certain 
city park, by the military police. This woman had 
earned one hundred and two dollars in one night, 
from the soldier boys who were under the closest 
surveillance. She had an aggravated case of 
syphilis. The very least estimate you can place on 
the results of her striking back was not less than 
twenty-five soldiers given that terrible disease IN 
ONE NIGHT OF DARK VENGEANCE. 


242 


BEHIND THE SCAELET MASK 


The Federal Authorities claimed it cost something 
like ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS to prepare a 
syphilitic soldier for service at the front, and some 
of them could never be prepared; that being true 
that one woman struck back one time and cost the 
taxpayers of this great Christian (?) country not 
less than TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND DOL¬ 
LARS to say nothing of the babies that would come 
into the world, halt, crippled, maimed, or blind as 
the result of the sins of their fathers with that one 
woman, in one night, as she struck back. What effect 
did it have on the leaders of the scarlet revolution? 
Go to the meeting of the Supreme Council and hear 
for yourself. 

THE SUPREME COUNCIL OF THE SCARLET EMPIRE. 

In the City of Chicago on the corner of Twenty- 
Second and Dearborn Streets stood the Everglade 
Club, said to be the most gorgeously furnished house 
of immorality in the United States. The stranger 
entered this high priced gilded palace of infamy and 
passed through the rooms open to the public. The 
officers entered to collect their part of the price 
of blood as “Protection Money” we are told and 
were permitted to see the basement where certain 
well known and wealthy patrons congregated, but 
into the second basement none but members of the 
Supreme Council of the Scarlet Empire ever entered. 
The first basement was designed to reproduce the 


THE SCARLET EMPIRE 


243 


famous Crystal Cave of the Black Hills, in which an 
extinct geyser had left large rooms and galleries 
partly filled with crystal hangings of the most ro¬ 
mantic forms, which were beautified with tiny 
electric bulbs, sending forth light, soft as the glow 
worm. In places are to be seen attractive stalactites 
and stalagmites of rare and beautiful shapes; in 
other parts are to be seen frost work representing 
the heavy hoar frost hanging from the trees, and 
throughout the Cavern are found pools of cold 
water, clear as crystal, in which schools of speckled 
trout and black bass played. 

There are various routes to be traveled in the 
Cavern, the World Fair Route, the Lake Route, the 
Diamond Field Route, and the Klondike Route, 
which is especially interesting on account of the 
beautiful lake or pool with snow-white formation 
in the bottom resembling clusters of popcorn. The 
World’s Fair Route is noted for its large rooms and 
galleries, boxwork formation of crystals, frost work, 
and stalactites. 

Each route affords the patrons something new 
and beautiful, each one a surprise and wonder in its 
work of art, and all the routes are made charmingly 
restful by soft strains of enchanting music coming 
from some hidden balcony or alcove. 

Tables tastefully arranged, with attendants har¬ 
moniously costumed, are to be found in all parts of 
the Cavern, where patrons may be served in privacy 


244 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


with all the delicacies and beverages of the country. 
In the larger room of the World’s Fair Route was 
an elevated stage for cabaret, and the main floor 
was waxed for dancing. 

From the main large rooms were secret passage¬ 
ways, leading to smaller bed rooms, richly furnished 
and cooled by frigid air from electric air coolers. 
In this underground cavern, of wondrous somber 
beauty, fairy-like girls flitted about, and only men 
of prodigious fortunes could meet the requirements 
of an evening in the Crystal Cavern. Underneath 
the Crystal Cavern was the Lost Grotto. The Grotto 
was entered by a half dozen secret passages leading 
to as many houses in Chicago, all in charge of special 
agents of the Scarlet Empire. 

The Lost Grotto was a labyrinth with rooms large 
and small. The commissary was stocked with sup¬ 
plies to sustain twenty-five persons for weeks and 
the bedrooms were provided with bath and sewerage 
connections. The kitchen and dining room were 
equipped with the most modern electrical cooking 
and serving appliances. An up-to-the-minute office 
furnished with all the latest office supplies, adjoined 
the bedroom of the Empress. The main room of the 
Lost Grotto was the council chamber of the Supreme 
Council of the Scarlet Empire. This chamber was 
draped with white, green, and blue hangings, fas¬ 
tened with cords of scarlet and fine linen to silver 
rings in pillars of marble, which were set in beds of 


THE SCARLET EMPIRE 


245 


gold and silver on a pavement of red, blue, white and 
black marble, partially covered with rich imported 
rugs. In the center of the chamber was a mahogany 
table surrounded with twenty-one richly upholstered 
high-back chairs. At one end of the table was a 
throne of rare beauty. The members of the Su¬ 
preme Council were summoned from their rooms by 
a singing electric signal. They filed slowly and with 
measured tread into their respective places, each 
wearing a flowing scarlet robe and a scarlet mask, 
and stood with bowed heads until the Empress ap¬ 
peared, and standing by her throne, gave the com¬ 
mand to be seated. The last meeting of the Supreme 
Council of the Scarlet Empire met in May of 192-, 
with Empress Gertrude on her throne. The council 
was composed of the directors of each of the twenty 
districts into which the United States was divided. 
By direction of the Empress her Majesty’s private 
secretary called the roll and all answered present. 
“The secretary will now read the records of the last 
assembly,” directed the Empress. 

“Are there any suggestions of changes? If not, 
the records stand as read,” announced the Empress. 

“My faithful subjects and under officers in the 
Supreme Council, as Empress of the Scarlet Empire, 
I have called you today for a special purpose, the 
object of which I shall outline to you. With your 
devoted co-operation, I am now about ready to 
launch the revolution for which we have toiled so 


246 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


long. Twenty-five years ago, when but an unsus¬ 
pecting, ignorant child, I was robbed of all that life 
held dear to me, and, after struggling for a place of 
restoration, and finding it not, I deliberately became 
the Queen of Vampires and proceeded to wrench 
from the hands of the world that had robbed me 
some of its ill-gotten gold. You, who have suffered 
likewise, joined me in a plan to organize a revolution 
for the purpose of forever sweeping from the Amer¬ 
ican continent the treacherous, fiendish Social Sys¬ 
tem. As you know, we were prepared to strike 
when the United States entered the World War, and 
drafted thousands of our soldiers into the Federal 
Service. We had gained financial control of the 
consolidated liquor traffic, the tobacco trust, the 
syndicate of vice from which we received the 
revenue to train and equip our army. Countess 
Ethelbert has been heralded throughout the world 
as the greatest philanthropist in the history of civil¬ 
ization. She has gathered thousands of outcast 
girls and children into Social Service Centers where 
they have been given the very best educational ad¬ 
vantages. Large contributions have been given this 
movement from other philanthropists, but not a 
drop to be compared with their contributions to 
other interests. The money with which to finance 
Countess Ethelbert’s magnificent work has been 
furnished by the Scarlet Empire through the Public 
Promotion Corporation. 


THE SCARLET EMPIRE 


247 


“The Directorate of the Scarlet Empire felt it was 
given an extra cause for the launching of a revolu¬ 
tion by the United States Government during its 
training camp activities, when it closed the vice 
districts and made no effort to provide any kind of 
help or relief for the girls who were thrown on the 
streets after having been lured into the brothels and 
held there by force. It is true this was only another 
act of the perverted servants of the Social System 
we have sworn to abolish. The closing of the brew¬ 
eries, saloons, and vice districts so reduced our reve¬ 
nue as to almost swamp our training centers and 
educational institutions. Our revenue obtained from 
the various interests, previously mentioned, was 
collected by force, the force of dollars. I discovered 
these interests were controlled by a few men and 
knew that if the power and influence of a dollar 
could hold men and women to so vile a profession as 
white slave traffic, that the same dollar would hold 
people to the cause of a revolution, and it has. 

“In our five great training camps, under the direc¬ 
tion of Countess Ethelbert, who is little known 
personally; I say in these camps, located in Massa¬ 
chusetts, Colorado, Florida, Wisconsin and Cal¬ 
ifornia we have gathered and stored large supplies 
for the oncoming revolution, but the reduction of 
the revenue derived from the interests the Govern¬ 
ment abolished, so crippled the Empire that the Lone 
Highwayman was forced on the scene. We are now 


248 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


gaining control of the press associations and the 
moving picture syndicates. As soon as we secure 
complete control of those two sources of informa¬ 
tion, the revolution will leap like a bolt of lightning 
across the country. Everything is in readiness when 
I give the word. Should the Lone Highwayman be 
killed, or captured and executed, his death will be 
the signal for the launching of the revolution. If 
he is captured, the Scarlet Empire, through its secret 
agents and legal subjects, will do everything possible 
to free him. You will take note and instruct your 
districts accordingly, that when I, Empress Ger¬ 
trude, give the signal of the Scarlet Mask, which 
will flash from every movie screen and electric wire 
simultaneously, the revolution is on. I have secret 
agents on every ship that floats the American flag 
and at all the munition plants and army head¬ 
quarters. I have the names of all men and women 
who are living dual moral lives and each one will be 
dealt with and branded on the forehead with the sign 
of the scarlet mask, and thus I expect to punish the 
evil doer and purge the nation. 

“I have waited through the years and am now 
ready to strike a blow that will wipe the Social 
System from the face of the American continent. 

“You will bear in mind, the Lone Highwayman is 
the agent of this Empire, and with information fur¬ 
nished him by my instructions, is enabled to hold up 
trains, banks, individuals and corporations who dare 


THE SCARLET EMPIRE 


249 


not refuse to sign the checks he calls for. They are 
under my power as Empress of this Empire and 
know we have the drop on them. His work is to 
supplement the revenue we lost by the closing of 
the interests I mentioned. Remember, his death by 
any cause, or a signal from me, will be the signal to 
strike. Each of you will be furnished with a written 
copy of this address in the usual invisible type, by 
my secretary. You are adjourned to the call of the 
Empress. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN 
LAST RAID OF THE LONE HIGHWAYMAN. 

T HE entire country was aroused over the mys¬ 
terious operations of the bold robber who 
signed himself “The Lone Highwayman,” and who, 
indeed, was a lone highwayman. Phantom-like he 
appeared in the most unexpected places and at the 
most unexpected times, and then again he would 
notify the authorities of an intended hold-up at a 
certain time and place, which he had thus far man¬ 
aged successfully, regardless of the presence of the 
best officers and detectives of the land. His appear¬ 
ances and disappearances were so uncanny and 
mysterious that the boldest were led to believe he 
belonged to another world. One day he held up a 
train in Wyoming, two days later he called on a 
bank in St. Louis, and while the officers were drag¬ 
ging that city for him, the papers announced a bold 
robbery in San Francisco. In official circles, it was 
believed he was working in connection with a power¬ 
ful secret organization. He never killed, although 
he frequently shot men’s guns from their hands as 
they thought to get the drop on him, and his work 
was not of the “Reds,” but he was undoubtedly 
playing for very large stakes, with a tremendous 
force pushing him on. He seemed to know definitely 
the number of passengers he wished to interview on 
any certain train or stage coach, and almost invar¬ 
iably confined himself to taking money from the 

250 


LAST RAID OP THE LONE HIGHWAYMAN 251 

speculative rich. Men signed checks for large sums 
at the point of the revolver, and later paid them 
without an objection. 

Banks, railway companies, States and the Fed¬ 
eral Government had offered attractive rewards 
for his apprehension and conviction. Conflicting 
reports were constantly afloat in the newspapers 
regarding the Lone Highwayman. One paper an¬ 
nounced he had been shot in the mountains of Mon¬ 
tana, and on the same date another declared he 
had been killed in Texas, while still another an¬ 
nounced his capture in Massachusetts. Thus the 
rumors floated while the daring man, or demon, 
continued his depredations. He would not be heard 
from for three or four weeks, then suddenly appear, 
make a great haul and as suddenly disappear. If 
he was a human being, he certainly had connection 
with some hidden source of knowledge. At last 
the papers announced he had been captured. And 
nothing more was heard of him until some weeks 
later, during the trial of the supposed Lone High¬ 
wayman, he called on the judge trying the case and 
collected five hundred dollars from him, then dis¬ 
appeared again for more than two months. 

A distinguished politician and financier was mak¬ 
ing a tour of the West preparatory to announcing 
his candidacy for the Presidency. This man was 
known by his intimate friends and acquaintances 
as a good sport. There were not less than fifty 


252 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


women throughout the nation with whom he was 
on the most familiar terms. During the special 
examinations of certain financial interests in Chi¬ 
cago, by the Department of Justice, while this man 
figured high in the personnel of the official fam¬ 
ily of a great railway line, it was gleaned that he 
had paid the Syndicate of Vice in Chicago as high 
as one thousand dollars a week for a young, un¬ 
soiled girl to be placed in his power; after he was 
through with her, she was turned back to the syn¬ 
dicate. Like Dives of old, he was just a rich man, 
and we will not honor him by giving him any kind 
of a name except the Beast. During his tour he 
was wined and dined and eulogized as a man who 
had done much for the development of his country. 
His money bought it all. In his craven heart he 
was a coward, and was in constant dread of being 
held up and brought to justice for his manifold 
crimes. The papers, with flaring headlines, an¬ 
nounced his itinerary. 

At Lyons, Colorado, he boarded an Estes Park 
auto with a number of other passengers to tour 
the National Park. As the auto rounded a curve 
on the banks of the St. Vrain River in the South 
Canyon, an obstruction was discovered in the road 
which caused the chauffeur to bring the car to a 
stop and as he did so a man stepped from behind 
a boulder and called on the crowd to throw up their 
hands and alight from the car. The entire group 


LAST RAID OF THE LONE HIGHWAYMAN 253 

was lined up by the side of the car and searched 
one by one, after which the Beast was ordered to 
step down the road a few paces. The scarlet-masked 
man backed off some distance so he could keep his 
eye on the group at the car and the Beast followed 
him. A young woman in the company addressed her 
companion. “My!” she said. “That scared me out 
of half my growth! But won’t I have a thriller to 
tell if I ever do get home. Isn’t that bold scoundrel 
handsome, though?” 

“This must be that Lone Highwayman we have 
heard so much about. I never took much stock in 
the stories, thinking it was just newspaper talk,” 
said one passenger. 

“Yes, I guess he is the man who held up the 
Union Pacific’s Overland Limited some weeks ago 
and robbed those wealthy Pullman passengers. The 
porter said he made them sign checks for large 
sums of money, but then a negro porter is liable 
to see a lot of things that never happened, if he 
is scared,” remarked a tourist. 

“Skeered, who wouldn’t be skeered?” asked a lit¬ 
tle dried-up man in the garb of a farmer, with an 
old woman standing by his side wearing an old- 
fashioned sunbonnet. 

“That feller has done took all the money me and 
Tabithy’s been saving for many a day. Says I to 
Tabithy jist before we started: ‘Now, see here, 
Tabithy, I don’t feel like we orter go gallivantin’ 


2S4 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


around over the country on this hyere money when 
ol’ Beck needs a new set of harness an’ the right 
hind wheel of the old phaeton is well-nigh gone. 
Besides, Parson Cole dun told us Sunday after 
Sunday to ‘Foller not after the things of the 
world.’ I ’lowed as how we’d have bad luck some¬ 
how, but Tabithy’s head was so sot on seeing some 
of the country. She ’lowed as how she’d like to see 
some of this hyere country before she has to go to 
another country.” The old lady began crying. “Now, 
shut up Tabithy, don’t cry, it will all come out right 
by and by.” 

While the old man was speaking he kept his eye 
on the two men down the road and at a moment 
when he saw the Lone Highwayman was bending 
over a paper the Beast was signing, a revolver 
dropped into his hand from some place in his loose 
coat and, like a flash, he raised his arm, but not 
quick enough, for the pistol of the Lone Highway¬ 
man barked and the old man groaned as the gun 
fell from his hand, and his shattered wrist to his 
side. 

“You’d better not try any more of your games, 
Gypsy Joe, for I know you as one of the greatest 
detectives in this country,” came the ringing words 
of the scarlet masked man. 

The Beast signed a check for one million dollars, 
which the Lone Highwayman placed in his pocket, 
then ordered the company to proceed on its way. 


LAST RAID OP THE LONE HIGHWAYMAN 265 

When the Beast was alone he drew a piece of paper 
from his pocket and read: “I know you, Duke Dar¬ 
ling, and warn you in behalf of the Scarlet Empire 
to see that you honor the check you have given me 
or accept the consequences.” Signed, The Lone 
Highwayman. 

Some days after the hold-up in the Saint Vrain 
Canyon an auto stage, pulling a steep grade, drew 
near a man sitting on a large bay horse. The man 
raised his head and the chauffeur saw he wore a 
scarlet mask and knew it was the Lone Highway¬ 
man. “Halt! Hands up!” came the command as 
he leveled his rifle at the chauffeur. Before the 
auto could come to a standstill a sharp report rang 
forth, and the blooded bay plunged forward down 
the canyon so frantically that he almost unseated 
his rider. A mocking laugh floated back from the 
scarlet masked rider with “I will see you later,” as 
the horse plunged around a curve in the road. 

The horse had been shot and further on fell dying 
in a bypath along which he had plunged. The rider 
could have made his escape had he not stopped to 
care for the dying horse, which had fallen. Whip¬ 
ping out his knife, he cut the girth, jerked the 
blanket from under the saddle and placed it under 
the head of the noble animal. He spoke to his horse 
in a voice that was tender and hoarse: “Thunder¬ 
bolt, old boy, you are done for, and this was to be 
our last job of this kind.” The horse endeavored 


256 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


to raise his head to look at his master, but dropped 
it back—dead. The scarlet-masked man bent over 
the dead animal, patted him on the jaw and brushed 
back the hair from his great eyes that had looked 
at his master so often in affection. “You are gone, 
old fellow,” he said. “You have been a faithful 
friend to me; how often you have borne me out of 
danger, and have been my only companion for days. 
Were it within my power I would give you a de¬ 
cent burial and place a monument over your body. 
I must leave you now and take the trail all alone, 
the trail that leads through unknown dangers. I 
will miss you, old boy, for you have never failed me, 
and have seemed to understand me and love me 
with an unselfish devotion. Goodbye, Thunderbolt, 
goodbye.” 

As he straightened up a lasso settled over his 
shoulder and tightened with a jerk that threw him 
from his feet. Before he could rise the cold muzzle 
of a gun was pressed to his temple, and the stern 
words, “Move, and you are a dead man,” rang in 
his ears. The deft fingers of Marshal Raymond 
Drew quickly bound him and he was led away a 
prisoner, the sure fate sooner or later of all those 
who break the law. 

The Lone Highwayman came before stern Judge 
Wheeler for trial, and the best legal talent in the 
State was engaged in a battle of wits. The State 
employed a distinguished firm of criminal lawyers 


LAST RAID OF THE LONE HIGHWAYMAN 257 

to assist the State’s Attorney in the prosecution. 
Two of the strongest law firms in the country were 
engaged for the defense. The court room was 
crowded from day to day, as the evidence was pre¬ 
sented. 

When the case went to the jury, many believed it 
would result in a “hung jury.” The Judge had em¬ 
phasized the necessity of making an example of the 
defendant if, in the minds of the jury, he was guilty. 
The prosecution had asked for the extreme penalty, 
which was hanging by the neck until dead. After 
due deliberation, the jury returned its verdict. The 
defendant sat calmly listening to the verdict with 
a smile playing about his firm mouth. When called 
upon to stand, he arose with graceful ease, listened 
attentively to the Judge as he read the verdict and 
pronounced the sentence of death, then bowed re¬ 
spectfully and took his seat. All eyes were upon 
him as he passed from the room after having 
thanked his counsel for their splendid defense. His 
demeanor was that of a man going quietly about or¬ 
dinary business. He maintained his reputation for 
coolness and dignity. As he passed out there was 
a murmur of admiration mingled with a sigh of 
regret. 

“He is the coolest man I ever met,” said the State’s 
Attorney. 

“What a pity such a man should be a criminal 
and be lost to his country,” said the Judge, as he 
left the bench. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT. 

THE LONE HIGHWAYMAN’S LAST CARD. 
NOTHER Frontier’s Day had rolled around at 



ri Cheyenne, and the hundreds of spectators had 
remained over for the execution of the Lone High¬ 
wayman, which had been scheduled to fall on that 
very afternoon—just at the close of day. Many 
of the cowboys and their friends had been pres¬ 
ent during the trial, and his coolness and indiffer¬ 
ence had won their sincere admiration. Some were 
there who recalled the achievements :on a previous 
Frontier Day, when a mysterious man, leaving a 
trampled scarlet mask behind him, had carried off 
the principal honors of the day. 

Probably no public execution in the annals of 
American history attracted so widespread atten¬ 
tion as did that of the Lone Highwayman. The 
Governors of three states, one United States Sena¬ 
tor, a number of representatives, several criminal 
judges, almost every sheriff in the state, together 
with financiers, ranchmen, politicians, sporting 
men, newspaper reporters, movie camera men, and 
thousands of strangers were attracted by some 
strange fascination to behold the end :of this daring 
man, who had boldly defied the Federal Govern¬ 
ment and state officials of almost every state in 
the Union. He had played a lone hand success¬ 
fully, then lost. Many came through curiosity to 


258 


THE LONE HIGHWAYMAN’S LAST CARD 259 

see the plucky marshal who captured the man that 
had been a terror to the nation. The keenest de¬ 
tectives, the shrewdest lawyers and the bravest of¬ 
ficers had failed to unearth a single clew as to the 
identity of this mysterious man. From whence he 
came no man was able to tell. His trial was a bat¬ 
tle of giants. It leaked out that the distinguished 
firm of criminal lawyers received not less than one 
hundred thousand dollars for conducting the de¬ 
fense, but who paid the money no one knew, neither 
was it possible to discover any of the millions of 
dollars this reckless robber had collected from the 
public, save the thirty one-dollar bills on his per¬ 
son when he was captured. He had never been 
known to have a partner nor an accomplice, then 
how had he disposed of his booty, what had he done 
with his money? The announcement by the mar¬ 
shal that the silence of the Lone Highwayman would 
be broken :on the day of the execution, and that a 
statement would be made on the gallows accounted 
for the presence of some of the thousands who were 
there that day, which was considerably augmented 
by the Frontier Day crowd. As a special precau¬ 
tion, soldiers were placed as a guard around the 
prison and place of execution. 

The gallows had been erected in an open space 
and on such an elevation that the final act of the 
State, “in vindicating the law for the protection of 
humanity,” as stated by the presiding judge, could 


260 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


be witnessed by the fifty thousand people expected 
to be present. A semi-circular platform, with pyra¬ 
mid seats for five hundred persons had been built 
immediately in the rear of the gallows for the dis¬ 
tinguished individuals who would be invited as of¬ 
ficial witnesses to the execution. A circle of tables 
for the news reporters was placed conveniently 
near to enable the reporters to catch each word. 
One enterprising paper had erected an enormous 
signboard which was so arranged as to be visible to 
each of the vast concourse of people, and on this 
signboard, by a special electrical appliance was to 
be flashed in black letters on a background of white, 
the name of each speaker and the message deliv¬ 
ered. 

The sporting element of the country had erected 
a tier of seats to the right of the semi-circle and 
sold individual seats as high as one thousand dol¬ 
lars, for many of the wealthiest of the sports had 
met the Lone Highwayman, and had been induced, 
at the point of a gold-mounted revolver, to contrib¬ 
ute liberally to the cause represented by him. 

Promptly at 6 P. M. on the day appointed, the 
marshal, with his deputies, a physician and prison 
chaplain, entered the death chamber, a bugle call 
sounded, and the military band played the death 
march, as the little company emerged from the pris¬ 
on and passed slowly along a solid formation of sol¬ 
diers with fixed bayonets, while on the great sign- 


THE LONE HIGHWAYMAN’S LAST CARD 261 

board was flashed, “The death march begins, the 
scarlet masked prisoner walks unassisted, apparent¬ 
ly cool and unconcerned.” 

A march of half a square brought the little com¬ 
pany to the foot of the steps leading to the gallows 
platform. The sheriff led the way, followed by the 
prisoner and back of him came the others. 

The prisoner stepped lightly to the platform and 
gave one sweeping glance at the vast sea of up¬ 
turned faces before him, then let his gaze rest a 
moment at the distinguished gathering in the re¬ 
served seats. Governor Davis, the chaplain, Judge 
Wheeler and a few others formed the central group, 
and upon them his gaze rested longest. Was there 
the faintest start as his eye searched the face of 
the chaplain? The chaplain thought so, or it might 
have been a play :of light that made him appear to 
start. The chaplain was sure he had never met 
him before. “The prisoner will listen to the read¬ 
ing of the death warrant,” said the marshal. There 
flashed on the signboard: “The marshal begins 
reading the death warrant. From all appearances 
the prisoner might be listening to a letter from 
friends at home.” Then followed the words on the 
board as read by the marshal. The vast concourse 
of people strained their eyes to distinguish the Lone 
Highwayman. 

As the marshal finished reading he turned to the 
prisoner and said: “Mr. Prisoner, have you any¬ 
thing to say before this sentence is executed?” 


262 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


“I have, sir,” answered the condemned man. 

“Proceed.” 

In a voice, clear and ringing, a voice many of that 
crowd had heard before, either in the midnight hour 
or under the brilliant light of the blazing noonday 
sun, “Halt! Hands up!” he began: 

“You are here today to do what you believe to 
be your duty, and these ladies and gentlemen and 
fellow travelers into the great dark unknown, are 
present to see it well done. 

“As I stand under the shadow of the gallows to¬ 
day, preparatory to taking my last long journey, 
I wish to leave with you my parting message as a 
heritage to the parents and to the boys and girls 
of this country which has denied me citizenship in 
it. My first remarks may lead you to believe I 
am mad, insane, but I assure you, if you will bear 
patiently with me, you shall be convinced that I am 
perfectly rational, though I marvel that I am not 
insane. 

“The death warrant, just read in your hearing, 
declared that the Lone Highwayman, having been 
tried before a jury of twelve law-abiding citizens 
of this State, and duly found guilty of having com¬ 
mitted certain crimes against the law and order of 
this Commonwealth, shall, on this date, ‘be hanged 
by the neck until dead.’ 

“That is an impossibility. I am already dead, mur¬ 
dered years ago, by this country and I stand before 


THE LONE HIGHWAYMAN’S LAST CARD 263 

you today as a phantom of the past and marvel not 
that I have been called the ‘Phantom Robber/ for 
I am a phantom—a phantom without a country, 
without a family, and without a home here or here¬ 
after. 

“That you may understand more clearly I will 
state that when I was but a child a man, much older 
than I, grievously wronged me and caused me to 
be cast out as a thing unclean. Heaven knows I 
struggled to keep my head above the water, but 
that man followed me up, and, with the assistance 
of the Social System of this country, under direc¬ 
tion of some Diabolical Influences, murdered me. 
He never turned away until he was sure I had sunk 
to rise no more.” 

As these burning words fell from the mouth of 
the speaker, a death-like silence was upon the scene 
and all craned their necks and strained their ears 
to hear each word. 

Continuing, he said: “I am convicted on circum¬ 
stantial evidence and am to be executed for murder, 
a crime of which I am innocent. While my heart 
has been wicked, and my life dark, I have never 
killed a single human being, though some bear 
marks on their bodies of my unerring aim. Never 
have I shot to kill, and never have I killed know¬ 
ingly. The large sums of money collected by me 
from the lawless rich, and often at the point of the 
gun, have been used in a good cause, where and how 
you shall understand later. 


264 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


“My name is unknown to you.” 

Turning, so as to face the distinguished group 
in the rear of the gallows, he continued: “You 
wish to know who I am, and from whence I came. 
This you shall know (and that right speedily). I 
was born at Harper’s Ferry, Virginia, that historic 
quiet little village nestling amidst the foothills of 
the grand Alleghanies, and watered by the beauti¬ 
ful Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers. 

“My father, with his wife and two children, moved 
to Texas, where he became an honored officer of 
the law. When I was but a child, I was deceived 
and robbed of all that life held dear to me.” At this 
point his voice choked a little and trembled. He 
put his hand to his temple as if in pain, raising his 
head and lifting his hand, he cried in a clear, ring¬ 
ing voice: “0, my America, the land of my nativ¬ 
ity, could I but free you from the terrible Social 
System that made possible the wrecking of my 
life, and the lives of multiplied thousands of others 
in like manner, then my death today would be but 
a small matter.” 

Fixing his eyes upon the Judge who had sen¬ 
tenced him, he said in a steady, measured, metallic 
voice: “Judge, as an officer of the law, you pro¬ 
nounced sentence upon me, and strange to say you 
are here today to see that sentence executed. I 
am convicted on circumstantial evidence of a par¬ 
ticular crime of which I am not guilty, although 


THE LONE HIGHWAYMAN’S LAST CARD 265 

God knows I am guilty of enough, I believe there 
are others who ought to share my punishment with 
me. Your honor, when I was but a child, a man, 
the son of an ex-Governor and a United States Sen¬ 
ator, by slander of which I was ignorant, defamed 
my good name then, through a profession of friend¬ 
ship, and by deception, robbed me of my heritage. 
My father and brother went to the man to seek 
correction of his wrong and ask for restitution as 
far as he could make it. In cold blood he shot them 
to death and escaped the penalty through the influ¬ 
ence of his distinguished father by a plea of self- 
defense. That man, in other ways, succeeded in 
driving me down and never stopped until he thought 
I had sunk beneath the waves to rise no more. An 
infant boy was torn from my life and I have never 
seen him since.” 

His eyes gleamed like black diamonds as, with 
one hand he swept the moustache from his lip and 
the scarlet mask from his face, then pointing his 
hand straight at the Judge, in words that cut like 
blades of cold steel: “I am Violet Verner, the girl 
you robbed, ruined and have now sentenced to die 
on the gallows for a crime of which I am not guilty.” 

Turning to the marshal she said: “Sir Marshal, I 
am through, pro—” 

“Law sakes, Heben hab mercy, am dis my pore 
li’l lamb dey gwine hang today?” a negro woman 


266 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


screamed as she came pushing her way through the 
crowd. 

The sentence died unfinished on Violet’s lips, for 
the marshal turned deathly pale and staggered as 
if stricken a death blow. Governor Davis and the 
chaplain of the Legislature sprang to their feet and 
rushed forward. 

The chaplain, to the side of the prisoner, and the 
Governor reached the marshal just in time to hear 
him groan, “My God, is this my poor mother, for 
whom I searched so long?” 

“Yes, I guess it is, Jefferson, my son,” answered 
the Governor. Before these words had escaped the 
lips of the marshal, the chaplain, who was none 
other than Claude Clifton, had reached the side of 
the condemned woman, and in a choking voice, 
scarcely above a whisper, said: “Violet, is this 
you? Violet Verner, don’t you know me? I am 
Claude Clifton.” 

One look into his honest face and she lost her 
self-control and fell sobbing into his outstretched 
arms. “Claude, 0 Claude, how can you touch me— 
how dare you acknowledge me before these people 
—your friends?” 

“Hush, Violet, my poor broken child, I’d own you 
before the universe. If I had not been so timid, 
and I sometimes fear so cowardly, your life might 
have been far different, for I have always loved 
you, Violet.” One brief moment she forgot the oc- 


THE LONE HIGHWAYMAN’S LAST CARD 267 

casion in the wonderful revelation and in the heal¬ 
ing power of a strong man’s honest love and pro¬ 
tection, then straightening up, with a strange fire 
burning in her dark eyes, and a red glow on her 
cheeks, said: “Stand back, sir, I have a work to 
do.” Turning to the crowd and extending her arms 
as if gripping something in her hands, a ringing 
command leaped from her lips: “Halt! Hands up!” 
Everybody keep still in your places! Attention, 
newspaper reporters, announce by wireless that the 
Loyal Legions of the Scarlet Empire are hereby or¬ 
dered by the Empress to act as per secret order 10.” 
She staggered forward and fell unconscious into the 
arms of the marshal, who sprang up just in time to 
catch her. 

Claude Clifton and the attending physician were 
at her side, and Governor Davis had flashed on the 
great signboard: “I, Governor Davis, by the au¬ 
thority vested in me by the State of Wyoming, do 
hereby grant a reprieve of thirty days to the Lone 
Highwayman, alias Violet Verner.” 

The crowd broke up and quietly dispersed save 
those near the unconscious prisoner. 

The newspapers of the country, with flaring 
headlines and striking cartoons, told the thrilling 
life story of the “Lone Highwayman,” and the tragic 
ending of the attempted execution in Wyoming. 

In response to the order given by the Empress, 
the moving picture shows of America simultaneous- 


268 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


ly exhibited a film under title of “Purging a Na¬ 
tion,” which made a profound impression on the 
public for the time being, then the public turned 
again to its mad folly and revelry. But the seed 
of agitation for a reformation had been sown and 
the harvest was to be gathered in a far different 
manner than the public dreamed. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE. 

THE PASSING OF A REDEEMED SOUL. 

But when the sun, in all his state, 

Illumed the eastern skies, 

She passed through Glory's morning-gate 
And walked in Paradise. 

—James Aldrich. 

W HILE the restless waves :of a storm-lashed 
world beat hard in an endeavor to free men 
from the thralldom of their evil misdeeds, and to 
usher in a better, brighter day, a group of people 
surrounded the death-bed of Violet Verner. Her 
beautiful face was radiant with a light from an¬ 
other world. She was resting on a downy pillow 
in her own private cottage at Verner Lodge, and 
was looking wistfully through an open window at 
the majestic, snow-capped mountains in the dis¬ 
tance. Only those who were near and dear to her 
were permitted to be present. There were Claude 
Clifton, Raymond Drew, Mae Dickson, Grace Gar¬ 
land, who had asked to come with Governor and 
Mrs. Davis, so as to be with Raymond at the bed¬ 
side of his beloved mother, for whose sake she had 
so nearly lost him; Martha and her faithful Henry. 
Outside were a few others, including several news¬ 
paper reporters. 

Turning so she could face Claude and Raymond, 
and calling Grace to her bedside, she said, as she 
held out her hand for Claude to hold, “Claude, my 

269 


270 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


own, dear Claude, how many times have I cried out, 
‘Robin, bring back my Claudie to me,’ when my soul 
has been sick, and the need was great. When you 
left me long years ago you promised to return soon, 
and I promised to be waiting for you—and I have 
been waiting all through the years, save for that 
one mad, foolish step, and that was because I mis¬ 
construed your bashfulness and timidity, and 
thought you no longer loved your ‘Little Violet,’ as 
you had made me believe. How silly and foolish is 
a girl in love. In the throes of a wounded pride, I 
accepted another’s attentions and was miserably 
deceived. 0, the sadness and sorrow of it all. Those 
dark days seem like fantastic dreams of wretched 
horror. How I longed for you to come to me, and 
how silly I was not to have understood that it was 
I who should have gone to you, rather than to have 
expected you to come to me. Tell me once more 
that you forgive me, and give me a parting kiss.” 

The strong man, with his soul shaken by a pow¬ 
erful emotion, bent over the dying woman and whis¬ 
pered: “My dear little crushed Violet, I have noth¬ 
ing to forgive; had I anything before, it would have 
gone when I saw you and knew you had loved me 
through all these years. I am the one to ask for 
forgiveness—for my faltering timidity, which let 
me misjudge your actions, and kept me from your 
side.” 

Gently stroking his hand, she replied: “Dear, 


THE PASSING OF A REDEEMED SOUL 271 

there is nothing to forgive; we were just two mis¬ 
guided children, each thinking the other at fault. 
In view of the great forgiveness God has granted 
my poor, unworthy soul, I have nothing in my heart 
for anyone but love and sympathy. What am I to 
grant forgiveness, when I have been forgiven? 
How changed are my views since the loving Savior 
has come into my heart. I understand now that a 
reconstruction of Society can never be gained 
through force or by outward punishment, but must 
be accomplished by an inward work, wrought in the 
heart of man, through the operation of the Spirit 
of God. Yes, Claude, I loved and needed you, but 
you did not understand, so I forgive you; to think 
I have been granted the supreme happiness :of know¬ 
ing you love and forgive me in this, my departing 
hour!” 

He bent over and implanted a holy kiss on her 
brow, then lovingly and tenderly kissed her pale 
lips. She smiled, closed her eyes for a moment, 
then breathed a prayer: “0, my Father, how gra¬ 
cious Thou art to Thy wayward, erring children; 
to bear with them in their blind ignorance, and to 
forgive them when they truly repent of their sins 
against Thee. As Thou hast forgiven me, Lord, I 
freely forgive all who have wronged or sinned 
against this, Thy weak child.” 

Opening her eyes she looked at the three stand¬ 
ing close by her bedside. “Raymond Drew, my son, 


272 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


you have been sinned against more than words can 
express—bend over, my child, and give me a kiss 
of forgiveness once more. You understand, don’t 
you, that mother did not wilfully give you up—that 
you were taken away by force? I would have suf¬ 
fered ten thousand deaths to have shielded you from 
pain, or the consequences of your birth. I sought 
you everywhere I could think you might be, hoping 
and believing that I should find you some day. How 
little did I realize the hand of God was working it 
all out, so as to bring us the wonderful light of His 
love! How merciful He has been!” 

Raymond had broken down completely as he 
stooped to kiss the beautiful mother for whom he 
had searched blindly. 

Turning to Grace Garland with a sweet, wistful 
heart-yearning, she said: “Grace, my dear, you 
have expressed your love for my long-lost noble son, 
who has made for himself a good, clean name. May 
he be to you a protection, and may you be to him 
an inspiration in all that is good, pure and hon¬ 
orable. May your lives receive a double portion 
of happiness, as you devote your talents to the good 
of humanity. 

“Claude, Raymond and Grace—receive a dying 
woman’s blessing and benediction; then go, my loved 
ones, in the name of Christ, and by the power of 
His Holy Spirit, to properly disburse the immense 
fortune I have acquired. It has been taken from 


THE PASSING OF A REDEEMED SOUL 


273 


the wicked—use it for the uplift of society, in the 
sign of the Crimson Cross, for the purging of the 
nation, until there shall not be a solitary place of 
vice in all this broad land. Tell the world that God, 
through the death of His Son, can redeem EVEN 
A LOST AND ERRING GIRL. Come, kneel here 
by me.” 

With a hand on Claude’s head, an arm around 
Raymond’s neck, touching Grace, who knelt beside 
him, Violet asked the others to come, one by one. 
“Governor and Mrs. Davis, you were so good to 
my precious baby, and have been so kind to me— 
everlasting gratitude! You, too, have asked forgive¬ 
ness; if there is aught to forgive, it is the faulty 
standard of ideals that corrupts society, causing 
mothers to have to give their babies away. God 
in Heaven has overruled all our blunders and mis¬ 
takes, for He knew we were staggering on in ig¬ 
norance and weakness, while reaching out for the 
better way. He has granted me, after all the years 
of loneliness, sin and suffering, the unmerited boon 
of having my loved ones with me at the end. Gov¬ 
ernor, may Heaven reward you and your sweet 
wife, whom my boy loved as his “mother” 
through all the tender years of his boyhood, and 
may He help you, as the chief magistrate of this 
State, administer your office for the greatest good 
to the largest number of people. Please accept my 
blessing, the blessing of a redeemed woman with a 
heart full of gratitude.” 


274 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


Governor and Mrs. Davis had begged for forgive¬ 
ness for their selfishness in keeping her child from 
her through all those years. They now spoke words 
of comfort and assured her of their unceasing de¬ 
votion to the CAUSE to which Raymond had dedi¬ 
cated his life. 

Calling Mae Dickson, for whom Claude relin¬ 
quished his place at her side, she laid her hand lov¬ 
ingly, caressingly, on the bowed head. “Mae, locked 
up in the secret chambers of God’s own knowledge 
are the facts of what you have meant to me—no 
earthly being could quite comprehend—during 
those long, dreary days when you so nobly protected 
me from the wolves of the desert, and saved me 
from my self, while you were also battling with the 
hidden forces which were arrayed against you. My 
truest friend, my protector, my counselor, my com¬ 
panion on many hard-fought battlefields, have you 
the inner knowledge of conscious acceptance with 
God? Mae, are you saved?” The woman sobbed 
aloud, “I don’t know.” 

“Don’t you want to be, Mae?” 

“Yes, O yes! I’d give the world to be as you 
are now,” she wept. 

“Please, all kneel,” requested Violet. “You, my 
friends, have no idea what this dear woman has 
meant to me during the darkest day of my sorrow¬ 
ful pilgrimage. I want you all to pray, while Claude 
leads the prayer in her behalf. She must be saved.” 


THE PASSING OF A REDEEMED SOUL 275 

A volume of Heaven-reaching prayer ascended. 
Mae began to pray in earnest, and to confess her 
sins. As she pleaded for the blood of Christ to wash 
away her Scarlet guilt, the Lord came—all in the 
room knew He came; they felt His presence. Mae 
arose shouting, her face was that of a transformed 
being. After her ecstatic joy had subsided, Violet 
said: 

“Mae, I can leave you now with peace in my heart, 
believing we shall meet again. You, doubtless, will 
live to see the consummation of our dreams, which 
will be accomplished in a far different way from 
that we anticipated. Continue the good work, but 
in the sign of the Crimson Cross, instead of the 
Scarlet Mask.” 

Turning to Martha, she called her to her bedside, 
and almost choked with the pent-up, unexpressed 
emotion that tried to find utterance and failed. 
With tears in her eyes, she said: “Martha, words 
fail me when I try to tell of my gratitude to you 
for your heroic friendship. When all else was gone, 
you gave me love and sympathy. You sacrificed all 
in my behalf, facing sorrow, suffering, shame, pov¬ 
erty and even endangered your life, that you might 
befriend a poor, heart-sick, struggling girl, friend¬ 
less and penniless; and, Henry, since you came you, 
too, have been faithful and devoted. As the small¬ 
est token of my gratitude I bequeath to you this 
lodge, and may you live happy for the rest of your 


276 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


lives. Receive the eternal benediction of one who 
is under a great obligation to you for faithful 
friendship and unselfish service. My secretary has 
placed to your credit in the Cody Bank United 
States bonds, the interest on which will provide for 
you the remainder of your days. 

“My friends, I believe my earthly business is fin¬ 
ished, and I am now ready to go home—how sweet 
the sound—home, mother.” 

The doctor came in and requested that all be kept 
quiet. She smiled and went to sleep. 

During the night Claude heard footsteps, and 
went out to see who it was. Great was his sur¬ 
prise to see Judge Richard Wheeler, who asked to 
see Violet, that he might ask forgiveness from the 
woman he had so fearfully wronged. Claude’s first 
impulse was to kill this man, upon whose head rest¬ 
ed the entire responsibility for all the sin and suf¬ 
fering Violet had undergone. Steeling himself to 
the task, he asked Richard to wait until he returned. 
Staggering under the weight of an almost uncon¬ 
trollable desire to kill—to wreak vengeance on this 
despoiler of pure girlhood, he fell on his knees. The 
Chief Shade of Darkness urged him to ‘Rise up in 
righteous indignation and smite this defiler of his 
sweet little Violet, to refuse him the great boon he 
had come to seek—forgiveness. Almost was he per¬ 
suaded to arise from his knees, and in the strength 
of outraged manhood turn Richard Wheeler from 


THE PASSING OF A REDEEMED SOUL 


277 


the house; but the “Man of Sorrows,” whose pity 
for His erring, misguided children had redeemed 
him. Claude arose before his Vision, shutting out 
the Shade of Darkness, and his brain cleared—for 
God’s love is mightier than the wrath of men, and 
over sin and wrong the right endures. Arising, 
Claude called Raymond from his dying mother’s bed¬ 
side and told him gently that his father was there, 
and wanted to see Violet. Raymond straightened 
up, his muscles grew tense, his face stern and his 
eyes were like sparks of fire. He felt the time had 
come for him to vindicate his mother’s wrongs. 
Claude, seeing, understood, and prayed silently for 
the struggling man . 

The Judge, in the excitement on the day of the 
intended execution, had failed to learn that the mar¬ 
shal, Raymond Drew, was Violet’s son, and there¬ 
fore, was not expecting to see her with his own son 
at her bedside. In fact, the shock of the denounce¬ 
ment on that day had so nearly cost his life by his 
own hand, that he was unaware that Violet was dy¬ 
ing at the present time. He had a sort of vague 
idea of trying to make some sort of reparation, Vio¬ 
let to make her own terms. 

Raymond, like Claude, felt strongly impressed 
with the injustice of allowing the wonderful, peace¬ 
ful passing of this storm-tossed soul to be disturbed 
by the presence of this man, the author of her un¬ 
happiness. The Shade walked by his side, and with 


RICHARD WHEELER HAD THROWN HIMSELF AT THE 
FOOT OF HER BED. 




































THE PASSING OF A REDEEMED SOUL 


279 


telling arguments, which were indisputable, urged 
the necessity for prompt, swift action. As he ap¬ 
proached his father, with vengeance in his heart, 
the ever-loving Savior arose to point the way to for¬ 
giveness. Turning to Claude, first, he said: “If a 
man is to be a Christian, he must practice Chris¬ 
tian principles, and you have told me that forgive¬ 
ness is the very foundation stone of God’s King¬ 
dom. Yes, I must forgive my unnatural father, and 
let him see my precious mother, but she must be 
prepared, else the unexpected shock might be dis¬ 
astrous. Let me go to her, now, then I will talk 
with him.” Turning he went back to his mother’s 
room, leaving Judge Wheeler gasping for breath at 
the sudden knowledge that this man, noted for his 
fearlessness, bravery and daring, was indeed his 
son. With bowed head he followed Raymond who, 
upon entering, had fallen on his knees and whis¬ 
pered softly: “Mother, do you feel like talking just 
a little? Could you stand a little shock and not 
let it hurt you? Why, mother dear, I would shield 
you with my life, but this seems to be beyond my 
power. Mother, Judge Wheeler is here and asks 
your forgiveness.” 

Violet closed her eyes for a moment, and Ray¬ 
mond cried out, thinking the shock had killed her. 
She smiled as she patted his hair and murmured, 
“Mother’s precious baby.” Then she asked to have 
Richard Wheeler admitted. As the wretched man, 


280 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


stooped, white-haired, haggard and drawn, entered 
she said simply: “I was expecting you, Richard. 
Somehow, it seems that God’s mysterious ways of 
vindicating wrongs are far more effective than any 
we could plan. There was a time when I could not 
have forgiven you. More than once I planned the 
most terrible revenge on you, and quite likely would 
have carried it into execution but for the counsel 
and advice of my friend, Mae Dickson, who always 
said she believed there was a God who took care of 
those things for us.” Richard Wheeler had thrown 
himself at the foot of her bed, resting his head on 
the covers. His convulsed sobbing shook her bed, 
his agony was intense, his remorse pitiful to see. 

Raising his head at last he said: “Violet, I ask 
that which I have no earthly right to expect you 
to grant. Will you, can you, say you forgive me?” 
His muscles twitched, he was suffering the agony 
of a soul that was damned. Violet looked upon his 
suffering pityingly, and said: “Richard, it takes 
more than my earthly power to say that I forgive 
you freely, as I do, for I recall those first days, when 
your gallantry and good looks won my admiration, 
then those dark days of deceit and treachery; then 
the still darker days of cruel, horrible suffering. At 
the grave of my parents and brother, I swore the 
most direful vengeance on you. More than once 
have I had the opportunity to execute my oath, but 
refrained. It was the hand of God that withheld 


THE PASSING OF A REDEEMED SOUL 281 

me, I realize now. May the same God who has for¬ 
given my sins have mercy on your soul. Yes, I for¬ 
give you as God has forgiven me. Here is your son, 
my son, who has suffered, to:o, as a consequence of 
your sin and mine.” 

Slowly he turned to face the young man he had 
known so well in the court room, and a sickening, 
deepening horror seized him in its pitiless grasp, as 
he realized the darkness of the tragedy. To his 
mind was pictured the arrest in the mountains, the 
merciless grueling of the attorneys during the trial, 
and last the attempted execution, in the open—the 
son the ignorant executioner of his own mother, and 
he, Richard Wheeler, the author of it all. 

He staggered to his feet; his suffering was ter¬ 
rible to behold. He tore at his throat and gasped 
for breath. Raymond walked to his side and put 
his arm about the shaking form and said: “Father, 
we have all suffered, we are still suffering. In the 
name of my dying mother, and in the name of my 
Savior, I forgive you the wrongs done me. Will you 
accept my forgiveness?” 

The words of his son had magic effect on the suf¬ 
fering man. He steadied himself. He looked in 
the face of the speaker with a quiet calm that he had 
not felt for weeks. Then the overwhelming realiza¬ 
tion of his own unfitness to ask forgiveness of these 
two, whom he had so cruelly wronged, threw him 
into the throes of an excruciating torture that 


282 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


seared his very soul. Staggering, dazed, he turned 
to Claude and said: “Claude, it is too much to ask 
you to forgive me. I betrayed your confidence, out¬ 
raged your manhood and robbed you of the ex¬ 
pressed love of one of God’s noblewomen.” 

Claude took his hand and replied: “Yes, Richard, 
I fought it out alone with God, and I do truly for¬ 
give you, and pray that He may forgive you, too.” 

“Claude, is there a power that can redeem a 
wretch like me?” 

“Yes, Richard, if we human beings, by His grace, 
can forgive you, how much more can He, who sup¬ 
plies us grace, forgive you, also? If you will kneel, 
I will ask God to forgive you.” 

Another prayer ascended to the throne of grace 
and mercy, in which great agony of soul was en¬ 
dured for the redemption of a lost man. Just at the 
break of day, the light came into his heart, and he 
confessed he was forgiven. A strangely sweet calm 
came into the room. All felt the supernatural pres¬ 
ence. The doctor was at Violet’s side with his hand 
on her pulse. She closed her eyes. He gave a sig¬ 
nal the end was approaching. She opened her eyes, 
motioned them to draw nearer, held one hand out 
for Claude to hold, the other to Raymond, and just 
as the sun peeped above the horizon and kissed the 
distant mountains, the spirit of Violet Verner 
slipped out and was gone. She had a sweet smile 


THE PASSING OF A REDEEMED SOUL 


283 


on her face—not the smile that played about the 
mouth of the Lone Highwayman, nor yet the bold, 
hard smile of the Empress of the Scarlet Empire; 
but the smile of a tired little child that had piled 
its playthings up, lain down amid the flowers, un¬ 
der the boughs of a great tree, and had gone to 
dreamland. 

Judge Wheeler, filled with remorse :over the 
wrecks he had made of so many lives, including his 
own, stole out of the room, and was never heard 
of again. 

The funeral was held in compliance with the ex¬ 
pressed wishes of Violet, and she was laid to rest 
in the heart of her beloved, silent Rocky Mountains. 


CHAPTER THIRTY. 

A GRAVE IN A MOUNTAIN-LOCKED VALLEY. 

Down in the valley, under the hill, 

Droppeth the snowflake white and still, 
Wrapping the violet, near my feet, 

Cold and still in her winding sheet. 

—Barker. 

I N A LONELY mountain-locked valley, in the 
heart of the mighty Rockies, far from human 
habitation, by the side of a crystal stream that sings 
a song of gladness, a woman lies. 

A woman, who sinned, struggled, fought and 
pressed along life’s weary way in the ever-increas¬ 
ing gloom of a long, long, night until the light came. 
She had requested that she be laid in the lap of the 
valley, amid the silent, somber mountains; from 
whence she obtained inspiration to press on in her 
uneven struggle against the world’s greatest evil. 
Hers had been a life of lonely trails, of desert 
wastes, of solitary conflicts, of single-handed deals, 
and of individual battles. 

In the valley she was placed where the wild birds 
sing, and where the golden sunbeams play like an 
artist’s brush, touching the delicate violets and 
painting the wild rose red. There, where the pale 
moonlight on the mariposa lily falls, and the plain¬ 
tive whip-poor-will calls to his dusky mate. Alone, 
and yet not alone—was not the robin there, that 
brave bird of legend fair, which she had called from 
waving tree, to “Bring back my Claudie to me.” 

284 


A GRAVE IN A MOUNTAIN-LOCKED VALLEY 285 

Probably nowhere in the world are there more 
strange and grotesque formations than in the Rocky 
Mountains. One marvels at the wonders nature has 
fashioned out of the sandstones in the Garden of 
the Gods, but when one plunges into the heart of 
the majestic Rockies and beholds the phantom-like 
figures and peculiar freaks the elements have 
carved out of the solid granite, one is filled with 
awe and admiration. 

Here you see an elephant, there a lion, a bear, a 
cathedral, a ship, a coffin, a family, and hundreds 
of other creatures formed of purple, brown, red, 
blue and gray granite. 

One wonders how many centuries the elements of 
wind, rain, lightning, sunshine, snow and earth 
tremors were required to shape these multitudinous 
formations. Indeed, one feels as if he were in the 
mysterious workshop of God. One stands in rever¬ 
ence and amazement as he looks to see the form of 
God or hear the chisel in His hand, but not a sound 
greets his ear. Not the drumming of a cricket, nor 
the chirping of a bird, nor the rippling of a rill, nor 
the sighing of the wind to disturb the far-flung 
death-like silence of those vast solitudes. Then one 
starts at the sound of muttering thunder which 
causes the eyes to search the heavens and discern 
far away in the dim distance a black cloud across 
which leaps the sheet lightning’s lurid gleam. One 
relaxes with a sigh of relief and murmurs: “There, 


286 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


God is working in His laboratory and those are the 
instruments of His hands.” 

sk * * * ^ 

Winter’s chilling blast had wrapped the mountain 
solitudes in its cold embrace. The scurrying flakes 
of snow whipped about the form of a horseman that 
approached a silent grave in the lonely valley. 

The stranger paused and raised his eyes to scan 
the lofty granite walls being wrapped in the first 
fleecy shroud of winter. High up on the red granite 
cliff was an Indian chief with bow and quiver stand¬ 
ing sentinel over a form bending at the feet of the 
Master, while just above and to the right was an 
eagle with wings spread to take its flight. 

The solid granite Indian guarded the weeping 
Magdalene while the eagle prepared to bear the 
news abroad that the cross prevailed and the woman 
was forgiven. 

Around those figures the beautiful snow had 
thrown its white robes. Tethering his horse to a 
nearby tree, the traveler approached the steel en¬ 
closed sepulcher, drew a key from his pocket, un¬ 
locked the gate and passed into the enclosure. At 
the head of the grave was a monument of Italian 
marble representing an angel, with wings spread, 
as if about to fly. His face was turned heavenward, 
and in his uplifted hand a violet was held. The 
stranger gazed at the beautiful work of art for a 
few minutes, then brushed the snow from a spot 


A GRAVE IN A MOUNTAIN-LOCKED VALLEY 


287 


near the head of the grave, removed his hat and 
reverently bowed in silent prayer. A robin flitted 
to the boughs of a near-by spruce and, turning his 
head as if not quite understanding the presence of 
the stranger, began his song. The stranger looked 
up and said: “Welcome, little robin, feathered 
guardian of my darling’s grave; tell her, little bird, 
her Claudie has come back to her again. You are 
a welcome friend, an omen of good, of whom Delle 
Norton wrote: 

“On fair Britannia’s isle, bright bird, 

A legend strange is told of thee,— 

’Tis said thy blithsome song was hushed 
While Christ toiled up Mount Calvary, 

Bowed ’neath the sins of all mankind; 

And humbled to the very dust 
By the vile cross, while viler man 

Mocked with a crown of thorns the Just. 

Pierced by our sorrows, and weighed down, 

By our transgressions,—faint and weak, 

Crushed by an angry Judge’s frown, 

And agonies no word can speak,— 

’Twas then, dear bird, the legend says 

That thou, from out His crown, didst tear 
The thorns, to lighten the distress, 

And ease the pain that He must bear; 

While pendant from thy tiny beak 

The gory points thy bosom pressed, 

And crimsoned with thy Saviour’s blood 
The somber brownness of thy breast! 

Since which proud hour for thee and thine, 

As an especial sign of grace 
God pours like sacramental wine 

Red signs of favor o’er thy race!” 

Turning to the grave, he said: “My precious Vio- 


288 


BEHIND THE SCARLET MASK 


let, your Claude has come to tell you this nation shall 
be purged; the black scourge shall be swept away, 
and a blessed and happy people will know your 
brave life and peaceful death were not in vain. 
Sleep on, my darling, your Claude is coming soon, 
and in that bright world, beyond the burdens, toils 
and cares we’ll better understand why our lives were 
severed and each of us traveled a lonely road 
through the mist of years while longing for the 
presence of the other.” 

Arising from the ground he drew a little tin box 
from his pocket, took out a bunch of violets, fresh 
and beautiful, which he placed in the hand of the 
angel, and said: “This, bright angel, is a token of 
love for my own little Violet who bloomed in dark 
and desolate places that others might enjoy the sun¬ 
shine of happy lives.” 

Casting his eyes at the grave, he continued: 
“Farewell, my darling, I leave you now to the care 
of the birds and the whispering winds that wrap 
your solitary grave in the pure shroud of the win¬ 
ter’s snow.” 

He withdrew, locked the gate, mounted his horse 
and rode away. Just as he passed around a great 
boulder he looked back and saw the robin perched 
above the grave singing his glad, free song. The 
snow whirled about him, he passed the boulder—and 
was lost to view. 


THE END 


























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I 




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ADDENDA 


When the city of Dallas awakened to the peril 
of the open saloon and segregated vice, the 
saloons were voted out and the “vice district” 
abolished. 

The author of “Behind the Scarlet Mask” con¬ 
tributed his part in abolishing the “district” and 
when the question was raised: “What will become 
of the girls if you close the ‘district ?’” he 
responded by offering the Berachah Home as a 
door through which they might pass to honorable 
walks in life. The offer was accepted and the dis¬ 
trict closed. 

Dallas and Fort Worth, without saloons or seg¬ 
regated vice, are rapidly growing into great cities, 
with city problems, not the least of which is the 
betrayed girl who drifts to the city to hide her 
shame. 

Prominent citizens of both of these cities are 
uniting with others in helping make the Berachah 
Home one of the most appreciated institutions of 
the kind in America. This home is being prop¬ 
erly equipped to give aid to any and all unfor¬ 
tunate girls who, like Violet Vemer, may seek a 
way up, a way out, of life’s entanglement. Here 
the mother keeps her baby. Mother and child are 
both trained for useful citizenship. More than 
1,300 of these girls and children have passed 
through this home. 


THE PUBLISHERS 

















THE BERACHAH HOME 

To the Berachah Home hundreds of 
betrayed and erring girls have come 
and found the way to a nobler and bet¬ 
ter life through Christ the Savior. 

They have come penniless, destitute, 
discouraged, and ready in body and 
soul for the Grim Reaper—or worse. 

From this undenominational, non¬ 
partisan, Christian home they have 
gone forth to take their places as re¬ 
spected citizens with a new outlook on 
life and have made good. 

If you are a Christian man or woman 
and believe in the injustice of placing 
the “Scarlet Mask” on these young girls 
and their unfortunate babies; and if 
you believe those who have been thus 
branded should be given another chance 
in life; and if you desire a part in the 
wonderful work of redemption and pre¬ 
vention accomplished through Ber¬ 
achah for thirty years, you can obtain 
full information by addressing an in¬ 
quiry to the founder and superinten¬ 
dent. 

J. T. UPCHURCH 

ARLINGTON, TEXAS 













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